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NIGHT THOUGHTS. 



BY 

EDWAED YOUNG, D. D. 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY. 

PHILADELPHIA: 

CEO. S. APPLETON, 147 CHESNUT STREET. 



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oirr 

BERTRAM SMITH 

Sc^^; . y^^ / f s a 



THE COMPLAINT. 



KiQtii tJje jffrst. 

ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 



TO THE KIGHT HOX. ARTHUR ONSLOW, ESQ. 
SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 



Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! 
He, like the world, his ready visit pays 
Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes : 
Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, 
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. 

From short (as usml) and disturh'd repose 
I wake : how happy they who wake no more ! 
Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave. 
I wake, emerjiins from a sea of dreams 
Tumultuous ; where my wreck'd desponding thought, 
From wave to wave of fancied misery, 
At random drove, her hehn of reason lost. 
Though now restored, 'tis only change of pain : 
(A hitter change !) severer for severe : 
"The day too short for my distress ; and night, 
Even in the zenith of her dark domain, 
Is sunshine to the color of mv fate. 

Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, 
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth 
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. 
Silence, how dead, and darkness, how profound '. 
Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds : 
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse 
Of life stood still, and nature made a pause ; 
An awful pause ! prophetic of her end. 
And let her prophecy be soon fulfill'd : 
Fate ! drop the curtain ; I can lose no more. 



4 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT I. 

Silence and Darkness ! solemn sisters ! twins 
From ancient Night, who nurse the tender thought 
To reason, and on reason build resolve, 
(That column of true majesty in man,) 
Assist me : I will thank you in the grave ; 
The grave, your kingdom. There this frame shall fall 
A victim sacred to your dreary shrine. 
But what are ye ? 

Thou, who didst put to flight 
Primeval Silence, when the morning stars, 
Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball ; 

Thou, whose word from solAl darkness struck 
That spark, the sun ; strike wisdom from my soul ; 
My soul, which flies to Thee, her trust, her treasure, 
As misers to their gold, while others rest. 
Through this opaque of nature, and of soul, 

This double night, transmit one pitying ray, 
To lighten and to cheer. Oh, lead my mind, 
(A mind that fain would wander from its woe,) 
Lead it through various scenes of life and death ; 
And from each scene the noblest truths inspire. 
Nor less inspire my conduct than my song : 
Teach my best reason reason ; my best will 
Teach rectitude ; and fix my firm resolve, 
Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear : 
Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, pour'd 
On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain. 

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time 
But from its loss. To give it then a tongue 
Is wise in man. As if an Angel spoke, 

1 feel the solemn sound. If heard aright 
It is the knell of my departed hours : 

Where are they 7 With the years beyond the flood. 

It is the signal that demands despatch : 

How much is to be done ! my hopes and fears 

Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge 

Look down — on what ? a fathomless abyss ; 

A dread eternity ! how surely mine ! 

And can eternity belong to me, 

Poor pensiottgr on the bounties of an hour 1 



ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 5 

How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, 
How complicate, how wonderful is man ! 
How p issing wonder he who made him such ! 
Who centred in our make such strange extremes 
From ditferent natures marvellously mix'd, 
Connexion exquisite of distant worlds ! 
Di tinguish'd link in being's endless chain! 
Midway from nothing to the Deity ! 
A beam etiierial, suUied and absorb'd ! 
Though sullied and dishonor'd, still divine! 
Him miniature of greatness absolute ! 
An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust ! 
Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! 
A worm ! a god ! I tremble at myself, 
And in myself am lost! At home a stranger, 
Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, 
And wondering at her own : how reason reels ! 
Oh, what a miracle to man is man, 
Triumphantly distress'd ! what joy, what dread ! 
Alternately transported, and alarm'd I 
What can preserve my life 1 or what destroy ? 
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave ; 
Legions of angels can't confine me there. 

'Tis past conjecture ; all things rise in proof. 
While o'er my limbs sleep's soft dominion spreads, 
What thoueh my soul fantastic measures trod 
O'er fairy fields ; or mourn'd along the gloom 
Of pathless woods ; or, down the craggy steep 
Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool ; 
Or scaled the clitf; or danced on hollow winds, 
With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain ? 
Her ceaseless flight, though devious, speaks her na- 
Of subtler essence than the trodden clod ; [tore 

Active, aerial, towering, unconfined, 
Unfettered with her gross companion's fall. 
Even silent night proclaims my soul immortal : 
Even silent night proclaims eternal day. 
For human weal. Heaven husbands all events : 
Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain. 

Why then their loss deplore, that are not lostl - 



6 . THE COMPLAINT. KIGHT I. 

Why wanders wretched thought their tombs around, 
In infidel distress 1 are angels there 1 
Slumbers, raked up in dust, etherial fire. 

They live I they greatly live a life on earth 
Unkindled, unconceived ; and from an eye 
Of tenderness let heavenly pity fall 
On m€, more justly number'd with the dead. 
This is the desert, this the solitude : 
How populous, how vital is the grave ! 
This is creation's melanclioly vault, 
The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom ; 
The land of apparitions, empty shades ; 
All, all on earth is shadow ; all beyond 
Is substance ; the reverse is Folly's creed : 
How solid all, where change shall be no more ! 

This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, 
The twilight of our day, the vestibule : 
Life's theatre as yet is shut, and death, 
Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar, 
This gross impediment of clay ramove, 
And make us, embryos of existence, free. 
From real life, but little more remote 
Is he, not yet a candidate for light. 
The future embryo slumbering in his sire. 
Enibryos we nmst be, till we burst the shell, 
Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life. 
The life of gods, oh transport ! and of man. 

Yet man, fool man ! here buries all his thoughts ; 
Inters celestial hopes without one sigh. 
Prisoner of earth, and pent beneath the moon, 
Here pinions all his wislies : wing'd by Heaven 
To fly at infiinite ; and reach it there, 
Where seraplis gather immortality. 
On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God. 
What golden joys ambrosial clustering glow 
In HIS full beam, and ripen for the just. 
Where momentary ages are no more ! 
Where time, and pain, and chance, and death expire ! 
And is it in the flight of threescore years, 
To push eternity from human thought, 



ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY, 7 

And smother souls immortal in the dust 1 
A soul immortal, spending all her fires, 
Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, 
Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd, 
At aufiht this scene can threaten or indulge, 
Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, 
To waft a feather, or to drown a tly. 

Where falls this censure 1 It o'ervvhelms myself: 
How was my heart incrusted by the world ! 
Oh, how sel'f-fetter'd was my grov'ling soul ! 
How, like a worm, was I wrapp'd round and round 
In silken thought, which reotile Fancy spun, 
Till darken'd Reason lay quire clouded o'er, 
With soft conceit, of endless comfort here, 
Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies ! 

Night visions may befriend (as sung above :) 
Our waking dreams are fatal. How I dream'd 
Of things impossible ! (Could sleep do more 1) 
Of joys perpetual in perpetual change ! 
Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave ! 
Eternal sunshine in the storms of life ! 
How richly were my noontide trances hung 
With gorgeous tapestries of pictured joys ! 
Joy behind joy, in endless perspective ! 
Till at death's'toll, whose restless iron tongue 
Calls daily for his millions at a meal, 
Starting I woke, and found myself undone. 
Where's now my frenzy's pompous furniture ? 
The cobweb'd cottage, with its ragged wall 
Of mouldering nuid, is royalty to me ! 
The spider's most attenuated thread 
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie 
On earthly bliss ; it breaks at every breeze. 

O ye biess'd scenes of permanent delight ! 
Full," above measure ! lasting, beyond bound ! 
A perpetuity of bliss is bliss. 
Could you, so rich in rapture, fear an end ; 
That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy, 
And quite unparadise the realms of light. 
Safe are vou lodged above these rolling spheres ; 



8 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 1. 

The baleful influence of whose giddy dance 

Sheds sad vicissitude on all beneath. 

Here teems with revolutions every hour ; 

And rarely for the better : or the best, 

More mortal than the common births of fate. 

Each moment has its sickle, emulous, 

Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep 

Strikes empires from the root : each moment plays 

His little weapon in the narrower sphere 

Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down 

The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss. 

Bliss ! sublunary bliss ! — proud words and vain ; 
Implicit treason to divine decree ! 
A bold invasion of the rights of Heaven ! 
I clasp'd the phantoms, and I found them air. 
Oh, had I weigh'd it ere my fond embrace, 
What darts of agony had miss'd my heart ! 

Death ! great proprietor of all ! 'tis thine 
To tread out empire, and to quench the stars. 
The sun himself by thy permissibn shines ; 
And, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his sphere. 
Amid such mighty plunder, why exhaust 
Thy partial quiver on a mark so mean ? 
Why thy peculiar rancour wreak'd on me 1 
Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? 
Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain; 
And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fiU'd her horn. 
O Cynthia ! why so pale 1 Dost thou lament 
Thy wretched neighbor 1 grieve to see thy wheel 
Of ceaseless change outwhirl'd in human life 1 
How wanes my borrow'd bliss 1 From fortune's smile, 
Precarious courtesy ! not virtue's sure, 
Self-given, solar ray of sound delight. 

In every varied posture, place, and hour, 
How widow'd every thought of every joy 1 
Thought, busy thought ! too busy for my peace ! 
Through the dark postern of time long elapsed, 
Led softly, by the stillness of the night. 
Led like a murderer, fand such it proves !) 
Strays (wretched rover !) o'er the pleasing past ; 



ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. V 

In quest of wretchedness perversely strays ; 
And finds all desert now ; and meets the ghosts 
Of my departed joys, a numerous tram ! 
I rue the riches of my former fate : 
Sweet comfort's blasted clusters 1 lament : 
1 tremble at the blessings once so dear ; 
And every pleasure pains me to the heart. 
Yet why complain 1 or why complain for one ! 
Hangs out the sun his lustre but for me, 
The single man 1 Are angels all beside 1 
I mourn for millions ; 'tis the common lot ; 
In this shape, or in that, has jWeentail'd 
The mother's throes on all onwoman born, '' 
Not more the children, than sure heirs of pain. 

War, famine, pest, volcano, storm, and fire, 
Intestine broils, oppression with her heart 
Wrapp'd up in triple brass, besiege mankind. 
Gftd's image, disinherited of day, 
Here, plunged in mines, forgets a sun was made. 
There, beings deathless as their haughty lord, 
Are hammer'd to the galling oar for life : 
And plough the winter's wave, and reap despair. 
Some, for hard masters, broken under arms, 
In battle lopp'd away, with half their limbs, 
Beg bitter bread through realms their valour saved, 
If so the tyrant, or his minion, doom. 
Want, and incurable disease, (fell pair !) 
On hopeless multitudes remorseless seize 
At once ; and make a refuge of the grave. 
How groaning hospitals eject their dead ! 
What numbers groan for sad admission there ! 
What numbers, once in fortune's lap high-fed, 
Solicit the cold hand of charity ! 
To shock us more, solicit it in vain ! 
Ye silken sons of pleasure ! since in pains 
You rue more modish visits, visit here, 
And breathe from your debauch : give, and reduce 
Surfeit's dominion o'er you. But so great 
Your impudence, you blush at what is right. 

Happy, did sorrow seize on such alone. 



10 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT I. 

Not prudence can defend, or virtue save : 

Disease invades the chastest temperance ; 

And punishment the guiltless : and alarm, 

Through thickest shades, pursues the fond of peace. 

Man's caution often into danger turns. 

And, his guard falling, crushes him to death. 

Not Happiness itself makes good her name ; 

Our very wishes give us not our wish. 

How distant oft the thing we dote on most 



From that for which we dote, felicity 
The smoothest course of nature ha: 
And truest friends, UMtough error, w^ 
Without misfortun^P^at calamitie 
And what hostilities, without a toe ! 



The smoothest course of nature has its pains ; m 

And truest friends, Uwough error, wound our rest. " 
Without misfortun^P^at calamities ! 



Nor are foes wanting to the best on earth. 

But endless is the list of human ills. 

And sighs might sooner fail than cause to sigh. 

A part how small of the terraqueous globe 
[s tenanted by man, the rest a waste. 
Rocks, deserts, frozen seas, and burning sands ; 
Wild haunts of monsters, poisons, stings, and death. 
Such is earth's melancholy map ! But, far 
More sad ! this earth is a true map of man. 
So bounded are its haughty lord's delights 
To woe's wide empire ; where deep troubles toss, 
Loud sorrows howl, envenom'd passions bite 
Ravenous calamities our vitals seize. 
And threatening fate wide opens to devour. 

What then am I, who sorrow for myself? 
In age, in infancy, from others' aid 
Is all our hope ; to teach us to be kind. 
That nature's first, last lesson to mankind: 
The selfish heart deserves the pain it feels. 
More generous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts ; 
And conscious virtue mitigates the pang, 
Nor virtue, more than prudence, bids me give 
Swoln thought a second channel : who divide, 
They weaken too, the torrent of their grief. 
Take then, O World ! thy nuich indebted teaa: : 
How sad a sight is human happiness, 



ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 11 

To those whose thought can pierce beyond an hour ! 

thou ! whate'er thou art, whose heart exults ! 
Wouldst thou I should congratulate thy fate ? 

1 know thou wouldst ; thy pride demands it from me. 
Let thy pride pardon what thy nature needs, 

The salutary censure of a friend. 

Thou happy wretch I by blindness thou art bless'd ; 

By dotiige dandled to perpetual smiles. 

Know, sniiler ! at thy peril thou art pleased: 

Thy pleasure is the promise of thy pain. 

Misfortune, like a creditor severe, 

But rises in demand for her dgkiy ; 

She makes a scourge of past ^3sperity, 

To sting thee more, and double thy distress. 

Lorenzo, Fortiuie makes her court to thee: 
Thy fond heart dances, while the Siren sings. M 

Dear is thy welfare : think me not unkind ; W 

I would not damp, but to secure, thy joys. 
Think not that fear is sacred to the storm : 
Stand on thy guard against the smiles of fate. 
Is Heaven tremendous in its frowns 1 Most sure ; 
And in its favors formidable too : 
Its favors here are trials, not rewards ; 
A call to duty, not discharge from care ; 
And should alarm us full as much as woes ; 
Awake us to their cause and consequence ; 
O'er our scann'd conduct give a jealous eye, 
And make us tremble, weigh'd with our desert: 
Awe nature's tumult, and chastise her joys, 
Lest, while we clasp, we kill them : nay, invert 
To worse than simple misery their charms. 
Revolted joys, like foes in civil war. 
Like bosom friendships to resentment sour'd, 
With rage envenom'd rise against our peace. 
Beware what earth calls happiness : beware 
All joys, but joys that never can expire. 
Who builds on less than an immortal base, 
Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death. 

Mine died with thee, Philander ! thy last sigh 
Dissolved the charm : the disenchanted earth 



12 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 1 

Lost all her lustre. Where her glittering towers'? 
Her golden mountains where 7 all dirken'd down 
To naked waste ; a dreary vale of tears : 
The great magician's dead ! Thou poor, pale piece 
Of outcast earth in darkness ! what a change 
From yesterd ly ! Thy darling hope so near, 
(Long-i:tl)or'd prize I) oh, how ambition flush'd 
Thy glowing cheek ! Ambition, truly great, 
Of virtuous praise. Death's subtle seed within 
(Sly, treacherous miner !) working in the dark, 
Smiled at thy well concerted scheme, and beckon'd 
The worm to riot oiu^at rose so red, 
Unfaded ere it fell ; one moment's prey ! 

Man's foresight is conditionally wise. 
Lorenzo ! wisdom into folly turns 
Oft, the first instunt; its idea fair 
To laboring thought is born. How dim our eye ! 
The present moment terminates our sight ; 
Clouds, thick as those on doomsday, drown the next: 
We penetrate, we prophesy in vain. 
Time is dealt out by particles ; and each, 
Ere mingled with the streaming sands of life, 
By fate's inviolable oath is sworn 
Deep silence, " where eternity begins." 

By nature's law, what may be may be now: 
There's no prerogative in human hours. 
In human hearts what bolder thought can rise 
Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn 1 
Where is to-morrow ? In another world. 
For numbers this is certain ; the reverse 
Is sure to none : and yet on this perhaps, 
This peradventure, infamous for lies, 
As on a rock of adamant, we build 
Our mountain hopes ; spin out eternal schemes, 
As we the fatal sisters could outspin, 
And, big with life's futurities, expire. 

Not even Philander had bespoke his shroud; 
Nor had he cause ; a warning was denied : 
How many fall as sudden, not as safe ; 
As sudden, though for years admonish'd home. 



ON LIFE, DEATH, AND IMMORTALITY. 13 

Of human ills, the last extreme beware : 
Beware, Lorenzo I a slow sudden death. 
How dreadful that deliberate surprise ! 
Be wise to-day ; 'tis madness to defer ; 
Next day the tiital precedent will plead; 
Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life 
Procrastination is the thief of time ; 
Year after year it steals, till all are tied. 
And to the mercies of a moment leaves 
The vast concerns of an eternal scei.e. 
If not so frequent, would not this be strange 1 
That 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still. 

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears 
The palm, " that all men are about to live," 
For ever on the brink of being born. 
All p:iy themselves the compliment to think 
They shall one day not drivel : and their pride, 
On this reversion, t ikes up ready praise ; 
At least, their own ; their future selves applauds. 
How excellent that lii'e they ne'er will lead ; 
Time lodged in their own hands is folly's vails ; 
That lodged in f ite's to wisdom they consign ; 
The thing they can't but purpose they po^itpone : 
'Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool : 
And scarce in human wisdom to do more. 
All promise is poor dilatory man. 
And that through every stage : when young, indeed, 
In full content we sometimes nobly rest, 
Unanxious for ourselves ; and only wish. 
As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. 
At thirty, man suspects him-;elf a fool ; 
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; 
At fifty, chides his inf imous delay. 
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; 
In all the magnanimity of thought 
Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same. 
And why 1 Because he thinks himself immortal. 
All men think all men mortil, but themselves ; 
Themselves, when sou)e alarming shock of fate 
Strikes thro' their wounded hearts the sudden dread : 






14 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT I. 

But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, 
Soon close ; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. 
As from the wing no scvir the sky retains ; 
The parted wave no furrow from the keel ; 
So dies in human hearts the thought of death : 
Even with the tender tear which Nature sheds 
O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave. 
Can I forget Philander ? That were strange ! 

my full heart ! But should I give it vent. 

The longest night, though longer far would fail, "4 

And the lark listen to my midnight song. " 

The sprightly lark's shrill matin wakes the mon 
Grief's sharpest thorn hard pressing on my breas^ 

1 strive, with wakeful melody, to cheer 
The sullen gloom, sweet Philomel ! like thee, 
And cull the stars to listen : every star 
Is deaf to mine, enamor'4 of thy lay. 

Yet be not vain ; there are who thine excel, 

And charm through distant ages : wrapp'd in shade, 

Prisoner of darkness ! to the silent hours, 

How often I repeat their rage divine. 

To lull my grief-^, and steal my heart from woe ! 

I roll their raptures, but not catch their fire. 

Dark, though not blind, like thee, Majonides ; 

Or, Milton! tliec ; ah ! could I reach your strain ! 

Or his, who made Mteonides our own. 

Man too he sung : innnortal man I sing ; 

Oft bursts my song beyond the bound of life ; 

What now, but immortality, can please 1 

Oh, ^iid he i)ress'd his theme, pursued the track 

Which opens out of darkness into day ! 

Oh, had he, mounted on his wing of fire, 

Soar'd where I sink, and sung immortal man ! 

How had it bless'd mankind, and rescued me ! 



ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 



TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EAUL OF WILMINGTON. 

"When the cock crew, he wept;" — smote by that eye, 
Which looks on ine, on all : that Power, who bids 
This inidnigiht sentinel, with clarion shrill, 
(Emblem of that which shall awake the dead,) 
Rouse souls from slumber into thoughts of Heaven. 
Shall I too weep 1 Where then is fortitude 1 
And, fo?titude abandon'd, where is man 1 
I know the terms on which he sees the light : 
He that is born is listed ; life \§ war 
Eternal \\ar with woe. Who bears it best. 
Deserves it least. — On other themes I'll dwell. 
Lorenzo ! let me turn my thoughts on thee ; 
And thine, on themes may profit : protit there. 
Where most thy need: themes,too,the genuine growth 
Of dear Philander's dust. He, thus, though dead, 
Way still befriend. — What themes 1 Time's wondrous 
Death. friendship.and Philander's final scene. [price, 
So could I touch these themes as might obtain' 
Thine ear, nor leave thy heart quite disengaged, 
The good deed would delight me ; half impress 
On my dark cloud an Iris ; and from grief 
Call glory. — Dost thou mourn Philander's fate ? , 
1 know, thou sayst it : says thy life the same 1 
He mourns the dead who lives" as they desire. 
Where is that thrift, that avarice of Time, 
(O glorious avarice !) thought of death inspires, 
As rumor'd robberies endear our gold 1 
O Time ! than gold more sacred ! more a load 
Than lead to fools ; and fools reputed wise. 
That moment granted man without account ? 
What years are squander'd, wisdom's debt unpaid? 
Our wealth in days, all due to that discharge. 

15 



16 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 11. 

Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door. 
Insidious death I should his strong hand arrest, 
No composition sets the prisoner free. 
Eternity's inexorable chain 
Fast binds ; and vengeance claims the full arrear. 

How late I shudder'd on the brink I how late 
Life call'd for her last refuge in despair ! 
That time is mine, O Mead ! to thee I owe ; 
Fain would I pay thee with eternity. 
But ill my genius answers my desire ; 
My sickly song is mortal past thy cure. 
Accept the will ; — that dies not with my strain. 

For what calls thy disease, Lorenzo 1 not ,.,^ 
For Esculapian, but for moral aid. 
Thou think'st it folly to be wise too soon. 
Youth is not rich in time, it may be poor ; 
Part with it as with mpney, sparing ; pay 
No moment, but in purchase of its worth ; 
And what its worth, ask death-beds ; they can tell. 
Part with it as with life, reluctant ; big 
With holy hope of nobler time to come ; 
Time higher aim'd, still nearer tlje great mark 
Of men and angels ; virtue more divine. 

Is this our duty, wisdom, glory, gain 1 
(These Heaven benign in vital union binds,) 
And sport we like the natives of the bough, 
When vernal suns inspire 1 Amusement reigns 
Man's great demand ; to trifle is to live : 
And is it then a trifle too to die 1 

Thou sayst I preach, Lorenzo ! 'Tis confess'd. 
What if, for once, I preach thee quite awake ? 
Who wants amusement In the flame of battle 1 
Is it not treason to the soul immortal, 
Her foes in arms, eternity the prize 1 
Will toys amuse when medicines cannot cure 1 
When spirits ebb, when life's enchanting scenes 
Their lustre lose, and lessen in our sight. 
As lands, and cities with their glittering spires, 
To the poor shatter'd bark, by sudden storm 
Thrown off to sea, and soon to perish there t 



ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 17 

Will toy§ amuse 1 No : thrones will then be toys. 
And earth and skies seem dust upon the scale, 

Redeem we time 1 — Its loss we dearly buy, 
What pleads Lorenzo for his high-prized sports'? 
He pleads time's numerons blanks ; he loudly pleads 
The straw-like trifles on life's common stream. 
From whom those blanks and trifles but from thee 1 
No blank, no trifle, nature made or meant. 
Virtue, or purposed virtue, still be thine : 
This cancels thy complaint at once ; tliis leaves 
In act no trifle, and no blank in time. 
This greatens, fills, immortalizes all ; 
This, the bless'd art of turning all to gold ; 
This, the good heart's prerogative, to raise 
A royal tribute from the poorest hours : 
Immense revenue ! every moment pays. 
If nothing more than purpose is thy power, 
Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed ; 
Who does the best his circumstance allows 
Does well, acts nobly ; angels could no more. 
Our outward act, indeed, admits restraint ; 
'Tis not in things o'er thought to domineer. [Heaven. 
Guard well thy thought; our thoughts are heard in 
On all important Time, through every age, 
Tho' much and warm the wise have urged ; the man 
Is yet unborn who duly weighs an hour. 

'• I've lost a day" the prince who nobly cried, 

Had been an emperor without his crown ; 

Of Home 7 say, rather, lord of human race : 

He spoke, as if deputed by mankind. 

So should all speak : so reason speaks in all : 

From the soft whispers of that God in man, 

Why fly to folly, why to frenzy fly, 

For rescue from the blessing we possess 1 

Time the supreme ! — Tune is eternity ; 

Pregnant with all eternity can give ; 

Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile. 

Who mmders time, he crushes ia the birth 

A power etherial, only not adored. 

Ah : how unjust to natuie and himself, 
2 



18 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT It. 

Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man ! 
Like children babbling nonsense in their sports, 
We censure nature for a span too short : 
That spun too short, we tax as tedious too ; 
Torture invention, all expedients tire, 
To lash the lingering moments into speed, 
And whirl us (happy riddance !) from ourselves. 
Art, brainless art ! our furious charioteer 
(For nature's voice, unstifled would recall,) 
Drives lieadlong towards the precipice of death ; 
Death, most our dread ; death, thus more dreadful 
Oh, what a riddle of absurdity ! [made : 

Leisure is pain ; takes off our chariot wheels : 
How heavily we drag the load of life ! 
Bless'd leisure is our curse : like that of Cain, 
It makes us wander ; wander earth around 
To fly that tyrant, thouglit. As Atlas groan'd 
The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour. 
We cry for mercy to the next amusement : 
The next anmsement mortgages our fields ; 
Slight inconvenience I prisons hardly frown, 
From hateful time if prisons set us free. 
Yet when death kindly tenders us relief. 
We call him cruel ; years to moments shrink, 
Ages to years. The telescope is turn'd. 
To man's false optics (from his folly false) 
Time, in advance, behind him hides his wings, 
And seems to creep, decrepit with his age ; 
Behold him when pass'd by ; what then is seen 
But his broad pinions swifter than the winds? 
And all mankind, in contradiction strong, 
Rueful, aghast ! cry out on his career. 

Leave to thy foes these errors and these ills ; 
To nature just, their cause and cure explore. 
Nor short Heaven's bounty, boundless our expense : 
No niggard, nature ; men are prodigals. 
We waste, not use our time ; we breathe, not live. 
Time wasted is existence, used is life : 
And bare existence, man, to live ordain'd, 
Wrings, and oppresses with enormous weight. 



ON TIME, DEATU, AND FRIENDSHIP. 19 

And why 1 since time was given for use, not waste, 

Enjoin'd to fly ; with tempest, f.de, and stars 

To keep hi^ speed, nor ever wait for man. 

Time's use was doom'd a pie isure : waste, a pain; 

That man might feel his error, if unseen, 

And, feeling, fly to labor for his cure ; 

Not, blundering, split on idleness for ease. 

Life's cares are comforts : such by Heaven design'd; 

He that has none mu<t make them or be wretched. 

Cares are employments ; and without employ 

The soul is on a rack ; the rack of rest, 

To souls most adverse ; action all their joy. 

Here then, the riddle m.irk'd above unfolds: 
Then time turns torment when man turns a fool. 
We rave, we wrestle with great nature's plan ; 
We thwart the Deity ; and 'tis decreed. 
Who thwart his will shall contradict their own. 
Hence our unnatural quarrels with ourselves ; 
Our thoughts at enmity ; our bosom broils : 
We push time from us, and we wish him back ; 
Lavish of lustrum*, and yet fond of life ; 
Life we think long, and short ; death seek, and shun ; 
Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, 
United jar, and yet are loth to part. 

Oh the dark days of vanity ! while here, 
How tasteless ! and how terrible when gone 
Gone 1 they ne'er go ; when past, they haunt us still : 
The spirit walks of every day deceased ; 
And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns. 
Nor death, nor life delight us. If time past. 
And time possess'd both pain us, what can please 1 
That which the Deity to please ordain'd, 
Time used. The man who consecrates his hours 
By vigorous effort, and an honest aim. 
At once he draws the sting of life and death : 
He walks with nature ; and her paths are peace. 

Our error's cause and cure are seen : see next 
Time's nature, origin, importance, speed ; 
And thy great gain from urging his career. — 
All-sensual man, because untouch'd, unseen, 



20 Thb: complaint. Kight It. 

He looks on time as nothing. Nothing else 

is truly man's ; 'tis fortune's. Time's a god. 

tiast thoit ne'er heard of time's omnipotence ? 

For, or n gainst, whnt wonders can he do ! 

And will ; to stand blank neuter he disdains. 

Not on those terms was Time (heaven's stranger !) 

On his important embassy to man. [sent 

Lorenzo ! no : on the long destined hour, 

From everlasting ages growing ripe, 

^hat memorable hour of wondrous birth, 

When the Dread Sire, on emanation bent, 

And big with nature, rising in his might 

Call'd forth creation, (for then Time was born,) 

By Godhead streaming through a thousand worlds ; 

Not on those terms, from the great days of heaven, 

From old eternity's mysterious orb. 

Was Time cut off, and cast beneath the skies : 

The skies, which watch him in his new abode, 

Measuring his motions by revolving spheres. 

That horologe machinery divine. [plf^Yt 

Hours, days, and months, Hnd years, his childi'enj 

Like numerous wing-i, around hinl as he flies : 

Or rather, asunequ;ii plumes they sh;ipe 

His ample pinions, swift as darted flame, 

To gain his goal, to reach his ancient rest, 

And join anew Eternity his sire ; 

In his immutability to nest, 

When worlds, that count his circles now Unhinged, 

(Fate the loud signal sounding,) headlong rush 

To timeless night and chaos, whence they rose. 

Why spur the speedy ? Why with levities 
New-wing thy short, short day's too rapid flight 1 
Know'st thou, or what thou dost, or what is done 1 
Man flies from time, and time from man ; too soon 
In sad divorce this double flight must end : 
And then, where are we 1 where, Lorenzo ! then 

Thy sports 1 thy pomps 1 -I grant thee in a state 

Not unambitious ; in the ruflled shroud, 
Thy Parian tomb's triumphant arch beneath, 
Has death his fopperies 1 Then well may life 



ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 21 

Put on her plume, and in her rainbow shine. 

Ye well array'd ! ye lilies of our land ! 
Ye lilies male ! who neither toil, nor spin ; 
(As sister lilies might ;) if not so wise 
As Solomon, more sumptuous to the sight ! 
Ye delicate ; who nothing can support, 
Yourselves most insupportable ! for whom 
The winter rose must blow, the sun put ou 
A brighter beam in Leo ; silky-soft 
Favonius ! breathe still softer, or be chid ; 
And other worlds send odours, sauce, and song, 
And robes, and notions, framed in foreign looms ! 
O ye LoRENzos of our age ! who deem 
One moment unamused a misery 
Not made for feeble man ! who call aloud 
For every bauble drivel'd o'er by sense ; 
For rattles and conceits of every cast, 
For change of follies and relays of joy. 
To drag you patient throught the tedious length 
Of a short winter's day^say, sages ! say. 
Wit's oracles ! say, dreamers of gay dreams ! 
How will you weather an eternal night, 
Where such expedients fail 1 

O treacherous conscience ! while she seems to sleep 
On rose and myrtle, luH'd \'iith syren song ! 
While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop 
On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein, 
And give us up to licence, unrccall'd, 
Unmark'd ; — see, from behind her secret stand, 
The sly informer minutes every fault, 
And her dread diary with horror fills, 
Not the gross act alone employs her pen : 
She reconnoitres fancy's airy band, 
A watchful foe ! the fornudable spy, 
Li<tening o'er-hears the whispers of our camp 
Our dawning purposes of heart explores. 
And steals our embryos of iniquity. 
As all-rapacious usurers concetij 
Their doomsday-book from all-consuming heirs ; 
Thus, with indulgence uiost severe, she treats 



22 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 11. 

Us spendthrifts of inestimable time ; 

Unnoted, notes each moment misapplied ; 

In leaves more durable than leaves of brass 

Writes our whole history : which death shall read 

In every pale delinquent's private ear ; 

And judgment publish ; publish to more worlds 

Than this ; and endless age in groans resound. 

Lorenzo, such that sleeper in thy breast! 

Such is her slumber ; and her vengeance such, 

For slighted counsel ; such thy future peace ! 

And think'st thou still thou canst be wise too sooni 

But why on time so lavish is my song? 
On this great theme kind Nature keeps a school 
To teach her sons herself; each night we die, 
Each morn are born anew : each day a life ! 
And shall we kill each day 7 If trifling kills, 
Sure vice must butcher. Oh, what heaps of slain 
Cry out for vengeance on us ! Time destroy'd 
Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt. 
Time flies, death urges, knells call. Heaven invites, 
Hell threatens : all exerts ! in eflbrt, all ; 
More than creation labours ! labours more 1 
And is there in creation what, amidst 
This tumult universal, wing'd despatch, 

And ardent energy, supinely yawns 1~ 

Man sleeps ; and man alone ; and man, whose fate, 
Fate irreversible, entire, extreme, 
Endless, hair-hung, breeze-shaken, o'er the gulf 
A moment trembles ; drops ! and man, for whom 
All else is in alarm ! man, the sole cause 
Of this surrounding storm ! and yet he sleeps, 
As the storm rock'd to rest.— Throw years away! 
Throw empires, and be blameless. Moments seize ; 
Heaven's on the wing : a moment we may wish, 
When worlds want wealth to buy. Bid day stand 
Bid him drive back his car, and reimport [still ; 

This period past, regive the given hour. 
Lorenzo, more than miracles we wast: 
Lorenzo — Oh, for yesterday to come ! 

Such is the language of the man awake ; 



ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 23 

His ardour such, for what oppresses thee. 
And is his ardour vain, Lorenzo ? No ; 
That more than miracle the gods indulge : 
To-day is yesterday return'd ; return'd 
Full power'd to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn, 
And reinstate us on the rock of peace. 
Let it not share its predece,ssor's fate ; 
Nor like its elder sisters, die a fool. 
Shall it evaporate in fume 1 fly off 
Fuliginous, and stain us deeper still 1 
Shall we be poorer for the plenty pour'd ? 
More wretched for the clemencies of Heaven ? 

V'^ere shall I find him 1 Angels ! tell me where. 
You know him ; he is near you : point him out : 
Shall I see glories beaming from his brow 1 
Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers 1 
Your golden wings, now hovering o'er him, shed 
Protection ; now, are waving in applause 
To that blessed son of foresight ! lord of fate ! 
That awful independent on To-morrow ! 
Whose work is done ; who triumphs in the past; 
Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile ; 
Nor, like the Parthian, wound him as they fly ; 
That common, but opprobrious lot ! past hours, 
If not by guilt, yet wound us by their flight, 
If folly bounds our prospect by the grave. 
All feeling of futurity benumb'd : 
All godlike passion for eternals quench'd ; 
All relish of realities expired ; 
Renounced all correspondence with the skies ; 
Our freedom chaiu'd ; quite wingless our desire; 
In sense dark prison'd all that ought to soar ; 
Prone to the centre ; crawling in the dust ; 
Dismounted every great and glorious aim ; 
Imbruted every faculty divine ; 
Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world. 
The world, that gulf of souls, immortal souls, 
Souls elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire 
To reach the distant skies, and triumph there 
On thrones, \\ hich shall not mourn their masters 
changed, 



i« THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 11. 

Though we from earth ; ctherial, they that fell. 
Such veneration due, O man to man. 

Who venerate themselves the world despise. 
For what, gay friend ! is this escutcheon'd world, 
Which hangs out Death in one eternal night ! 
A night, that glooms us in the noontide ray, 
And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud. 
Life's little stage is a small eminence, 
Inch-high the grave above, that home of man, 
Where dwells the multitude : we gaze around ; 
We read their monuments ; we sigh ; and while 
We sigh, we sink ; and are what we deplored ; 
Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot ! • 

Is death at distance 1 No : he has been on thee ; 
And given sure earnest of his tinal blow. 
Those hours that lately smiled, where are they now t 
Pallid to thought, and ghastly ! drown'd, all drown'd 
In that great deep, which nothing disembogues ! 
And, dying, they bequeath'd thee small renown. 
The rest are on the wing : how fleet their flight ! 
Already has the fatal train took fire : * 

A moment, and the world's blown up to thee ; 
The sun is darkness, and the stars are dust. 

'Tis greatly wise to Mk with our past hours ; 
And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; 
And how they might have borne more welcome news. 
Their answers form what men experience call ; 
If wisdom's friend, her best ; if not, worst foe. 
Oh, reconcile them ! Kind experience cries, 
" There's nothing here but wha t as nothing weighs . 
The more our joy, the more we know it vain ; 
And by success are tutor'd to despair." 
Nor is it only thus, but must be so. 
Who knows not this, though gray, is still a child. 
Loose then from earth the grasp of fond desire. 
Weigh anchor, and some happier clime explore. 

Art thou so moor'd thou canst not disengage. 
Nor give thy thoughts a ply to future scenes 1 
Since, by life's passing breath, blown up from earth, 
Light, as the summer's dust, we take in air 



ON TIM^ DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 25 

A moment's giddy flight, and fall again ; 

Join the dull mass, increase the trodden soil, 

And sleep, till earth herself shall be no more : 

Since then (as emmets, their small world o'erthrown) 

We sore amazed from out earth's ruins crawl, 

And rise to fate extreme of foul or fair, 

As man's own choice (controller of the skies !) 

As man's despotic will, perhaps one hour 

(Oh, how omnipotent is time !) decrees ; 

Should not each warning give a strong alarm 1 

Warning, far less than that of bosom torn 

From bosom, bleeding o'er the sacred dead ! 

Should not each dial strike us as we pass, 

Portentous, as the written wall, which struck, 

O'er midnight bowls, the proud Assyrian pale, 

Erewhile high flush'd with insolence and wine 1 

Like that, the dial speaks ; and points to thee, 

Lorenzo ! loth to break thy banquet up : 

" O man, thy kingdom is departing from thee ; 

And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade." 

Its silent language such : nor need'st tnou call 

Thy Magi, to decipher what it means. 

Know, like the Median, fate is in thy walls: 

Dost ask. How 1 Whence 1 Belshazzarlike, amazed 1 

Man's make encloses the sure seeds of death ; 

Life feeds the murderer : ingrate ! he thrives 

On her own meal, and then his nurse devours. 

But here, Lorenzo, the delusion lies ; 
That solar shadow, as it measures life. 
It life resembles too : life speeds away 
From point to point, though seeming to stand still. 
The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth : 
Too subtle is the movement to be seen ; 
Yet soon man's hour is up, and we are gone. 
Warnings point out our danger ; gnomons, time: 
As the-e are useless when the sun is set. 
So those, but when more glorious reason shines. 
Reason should judge in all ; in tpason's eye, 
That sedentary shadow travels hard. 
But such our gravitation to the wrong, 



26 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT II. 

« 

So prone our hearts to whisper what we wish, 
'Tis later with the wise than he's aware. 
A Wilmington goes slower than the sun : 
And all mankind mistake their time of day ; 
Even age itself. Fresh hopes are hourly sown 
In furrow'd brows. To gentle life's descent 
We shut our eyes, and think it is a plain. 
We take fair days in winter for the spring ; 
And turn our blessings into bane. Since oft 
Man must compu*e that age he cannot feel, 
He scarce believes he's older for his years. 
Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in store 
One disappointment sure, to crown the rest ; 
The disappointnjent of a promised hour. 

On this, or similar. Philander ! thou, 
Whose mind was moral as the preacher's tongue ; 
And strong to wield all science worth the name ; 
How often we talk'd down the summer's sun, 
And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream ! 
How often thaw'd and shorten'd winter's eve, 
By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth. 
Best found, so sought ; to the recluse more coy ! 
Thoughts disentangle passing o'er the lip ; 
Clean runs the thread ; if not, 'tis thrown away, 
Dr kept to tie up nonsense for a song ; 
Song, fashionably fruitless ; such as stains 
The fancy, and unhallovv'd passion fires ; 
Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fame. 

Know'st thou, Lorknzo ! what a friend contains? 
As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers, 
So men from Friendship wisdom and delight ; 
Tu^ins tied by nature, if they part they die. 
Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach 1 
Good sense will stagnate: thoughts shut up want air. 
And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun. 
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied ; 
Speech, thought's canal ! speech, thought's criterion 

too! 
Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross ; 
When coin'd in words, we know its real worth. 



ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP, 37 

If sterling, store it for thy future use ; 

'Twill buy thee benefit ! perhaps, renown. 

Thought, too, deliver'd is the more possess'd : 

Teaching, we learn : and, giving, we retain 

The births of intellect ; when dumb, forgot. 

Speech ventilates our intellectual fire : 

Speech burnishes our mental mag izine ; 

Brightens, for ornament ; and whets, for use. 

What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie, 

Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes, 

Aad rusted in ; who might have borne an edge, 

And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech ; 

If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue ! 

'Tis thought's exchange ; which, like th' alternate 

Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum, [push 

And defecates the student's standing pool. 

In contemplation is his proud resource 1 

'Tis poor, as proud, by converse unsustain'd. 

Rude thought runs wild in contemplation's field : 

Converse, the manege, breaks it to the bit 

Of due restraint ; and emulation's spur 

Gives graceful energy, ])y rivals awed. 

'Tis converse qualifies for solitude, 

As exercise, for salutiry rest. 

By that untutor'd, contemplation raves 

And nature's fool by wisdom's is outdone. 

Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines 
And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, 
What is she, but the meins of happiness 1 
1'hat unobtain'd, than folly more a fool. 
A melancholy fool, without her bells. 
Friendship, the means of wisdom, richly gives 
The precious end which makes our wisdom wise. 
Nature, in zeal for human amity. 
Denies or damps an undivided joy. 
Joy is an import ; joy is an exchange ; 
Joy flies monopolists : it calls for two ; 
Rich fruit ! Heaven-planted ! never pluck'd by one. 
Needful auxiliars are our friends, to give 
To social man true relish of himself, 



23 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 11. 

Full on ourselves, descending in a line, 
Pleasure's bright beam is feeble in delight : 
Delight intense is taken by rebound ; 
Reverberated pleasures fire the breast. 

Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops 
To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds, 
And one alone, to make her sweet amends 
For absent heaven — the bosom of a friend ; 
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, 
Each other's pillow to repose divine. 
Beware the counterfeit : in passion's flame 
Hearts melt : but melt like ice, soon harder froze. 
True love strikes root in reason ; passion's foe : 
Virtue alone entenders us for life ; 
I wrong her much — entenders us for ever. 
Of Friendship's fairest fruits, the fruit most fair i 

Is virtue kindling at a rival tire, I 

And, emulously rapid in her race. 
O the soft enmity ! endearing strife ! 
This carries friendship to her noontide point 
And gives the rivet of eternity. . , 

From friendship, which outlives my former themes, • .^^ 
Glorious survivor of old time and death ! 
From friendship, thus, that flower of" heavenly seed, 
The wise extract earth's most Hyblean bliss, 
Superior wisdom, crown'd with sniiling joy. 

But for whom blossoms this Elysian flower 1 
Abrond they find, who cherish it at home. 
Lorenzo ! pardon what my love extorts ; 
An honest love, and not afraid to frown. 
Though choice of foliy fasten on the great. 
None clings more obstinate, than fancy fond 
That sacred friendship is their easy prey; 
Caught by the waftiire of a golden lure, 
Or fascination of a high-born smile. 
Their smiles the great and the coquette throw out 
For others' hearts, tenacious of their own ; 
And we no less of ours, when such the bfiit. 
Ye fortune's cofferers ! ye powers of wealth ! 
Can gold gain friendship 1 Impudence of hope ! 



0>f tiME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 29 

As well mere man an angel might beget. 
Love, and love only, is the loan for love. 
Lorenzo ! pride repress ; nor hope to find 
A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. 
All like the purciiase ; few the price will pay : 
And this makes friends such miracles below. 

What if (since daring on so nice a theme) 
I shov/ the friendship delicate, as dear, 
Of tender violations apt to die 1 
Reserve will wound it ; and distrust destroy* 
Deliberate on all things with thy friend. 
But since friends grow not thick on every bough, 
Nor every friend unrotten at the core ; 
First, on thy friend, deliberate with thyself: 
Pause, ponder, sift ;-not eager in the choice^ 
Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix : 
Judge before friendship, then confide till deaths 
Well, for thy friend ; but nobler far for thee : 
How gallant danger for earth's highest prize I 
A friend is worth all hazards we can run. 
" Poor is the friendless master of a world ; 
A world in purchase for a friend is gain." 

So sung he (angels hear that angel sing ! 
Angels from friendship gather half their joy :) 
So sung Philander, as his friend went round 
In the rich ichor, in the generous blood 
Of Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit, 
A brow solute, and ever laughing eye. 
He drank long health, and virtue, to his friend ; 
His friend, who warm'd him inore.who more inspired; 
Friendship's the wine of life ; but friendship new 
(Not such was his) is neither strong nor pure. 
Oh, for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, 
And elevating spirit of a friend, 
For twenty summers ripening by my side ; 
All feculence of falsehood long thrown down ; 
All sotfial virtues rising in his soul ; 
As crystal clear ; and smiling as they rise ! 
Here nectar flows ; it sparkles in our sight ; 
£ich to the taste, and genuine from the heart. 



30 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 11. 

High-flavor'd bliss for pods ! on earth how rare ! 
On earth how lost! Phii.ant>er is no more. 

Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my song? 
Am I too Avarm ? — Too warm I cannot be. 
I loved him much ; but now I love him more. 
Like birds, whose beauties lanjruish, half conceal'd, 
Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes 
Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold ; 
How blessings brighten as they take their flight! 
His tlight Philander took ; his upward flight, 
If ever soul ascended. Had he dropp'd, 
(That eagle genius !) Oh had he let fall 
One feather as he flew ; I then had wrote 
What friends might flatter; prudent fees forbear; 
Eivals scarce damn ; and Zoill-s reprieve. 
Yet what I can, I must : it were profane 
To quench a glory lighted at the skies, 
And cast in shadows his illustrious close. 
Strange ! the theme most affecting, most sublime, 
Momentous most to man, should sleep unsung ! 
And yet it sleeps, by genius unawaked, 
Paynim or Christian ; to the blush of wit. 
Man's highest triumph ! man's profoundest fall ! 
The deathbed of the just ! is yet undrawn 
By mortal hand ; it merits a divine : 
Angels should paint it, angels ever there ; 
There, on a post of honor and of joy. 
Dare I presume, then 1 But Philander bids; 

And glory tempts, and inclination calls 

Yet am I struck ; as struck the soul, beneath 

Aerial groves' impenetrable gloom. 

Or, in some mighty ruin's solemn shade ; 

Or, gazing by pale lamps on high-born dust. 

In vaults ; thin courts of poor unflatter'd kings ; 

Or, at the midnight altar's hallow'd flame. 

It is religion to proceed "? I pause 

And enter, awed, the temple of my theme. ' 
Is it his deathbed 1 No ; it is his shrine : 
Behold him, there, just rising to a god. 
J The chamber where the good man meets his fate 



ON TIME, DEATH, AND FRIENDSHIP. 31 

Is pri\ileged beyond the common walk 

Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven. 

Fly, ye profane ! if not, draw near with awe, 

Receive the blessing, and adore the chance, 

That threw in this Bethesda your disease : 

If unrestored by this, despair your cure : 

For here resistless demonstration dwells ; 

A deathbed's a detector of the heart. 

Here tired dissimulation drops her mask ; 

Through life's grimace, that mistress of the scene ! 

Here real and apparent are the same. 

You see the man ; you see his hold on heaven, 

If sound his virtue ; as Philander's sound. 

Heaven waits not the last moment ; owns her friends 

On this side death ; and points them out to men: 

A lecture silent, but of sovereign power ! 

To vice, confusion ; and to virtue, peace. 

Whatever farce the boastful hero plays. 
Virtue alone has majesty in death ; 
And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. 
Philander ! he severely frown'd on thee ; 
" No warning given ! I^nceremonious fate ! 
A sudden rush from life's meridian joy ! 
A wrench from all we love ! from all we are ! 
A restless bed of pain ! a plunge opaque 
Beyond conjecture ! feeble nature's dread ! 
Strong Reason's shudder at the dark unknown ! 
A sun extinguish'd ! a just-opening grave ! 
And oh ! the last, last — what ? (can words express 1 
Thought reach ?) the last, last — silence of a friend !" 
Where are those horrors, that amazement where, 
This hideous group of ills (which singly shock) 
Demands from man ? — I thought him man till now. 

Through nature's wreck, through vanquished ago- 
nies, 
(Like the stars struggling through this midnight 

gloom,) 
What gleams of joy ! what more than human peace 1 
Where the frail mortal 1 the poor abject worm 1 
No, not in death, the mortal lo be found. 



&Z THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 11. 

His conduct is a legacy for all, 
Richer thau' Mammon's for his single heir. 
His comforters he comforts ; great in ruin. 
With unrcluctant grandeur, gives, not yields, 
His soul sublime ; and closes with his fate. 

How our hearts burn'd within us at the scene ! 
Whence this brave bound o'er limits fix'd to man 1 
His God sustains him in his final hour ! 
His final hour brings glory to his God ! 
]Man's glory heaven vouchsafes to call her own. 
We gaze, we weep ; mix'd tears of grief and joy ! 
Amazement strikes ! devotion bursts to flame ! 
Christians adore ! and inlidcls believe ! 

As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow, 
Detains the sun, illustrious from its height ; 
While rising vapors, and descending shades. 
With damps and darkness, drown the spacious vale ; 
Undamp'd by doubt, undafken'd bv despair, 
Philander, thus, augustly rears his head, 
At that black hour, which general horror sheds 
On the low level of the inglorious throng : 
Sweet peace, and heavenly hoije, and humble joy, 
Divinely beam on his exalted soul ; 
Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies, 
With incommunicable lustre bright. 



NARCISSA. 
TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF P- 



Ignoscenda quidem, scircntsi ignoscere manes. — ViR. 

From dreams, where thought in fancy's maze runs 
To reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man, [mad, 
Once more 1 wake ; and at the de<tined hour, 
Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, 
I keep my assignation with my woe. 

O I lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, 
Lost to the noble sallies of the soul ! 
Who think it solitude to be alone. 
Communion sweet ! communion large and high ! 
Our reason, guardian angel, and our God ! 
Then nearest these, when others most remote ; 
And all, ere long, shall be remote but these. 
How dreadful, then, to meet them all alone, 
A stranger ! unacknowledged I unapproved ! 
Now woo them ; wed them ; bind them to thy breast ; 
To win thy wish creation has no more. 

Or if we wish a fourth, it is a friend 

But friends, how mortal ! dangerous the desire. 

Take Phcebus to yourselves, ye basking bards! 
Inebriate at fair fortune's fountain head ; 
And reeling through the wilderness of joy ; 
When sense runs savage, broke from reason's chain ! 
And sings false peace, till smother'd by the pall. 
My fortmie is unlike ; unlike niysong ; 
Unlike the Deity my song invokes. 
I to Day's soft-eyed sister pay my court, 
(Endymion's rival !) and her aid implore ; 
Now first implored in succor to the muse. 
3 33 



34 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT in. 

Thou, who didst lately borrow* Cynthia's form, 
And modestly forego thine own ! O thou, 
Who didst thyself, at midnight hours, inspire ! 
Say, why not Cynthia patroness of song 1 
As thou her crescent, she thy character 
Assumes ; still more a goddess by the change. 

Are there demurring wits, who dare dispute 
This revolution in the world inspired 1 
Ye train Pyerian ! to the lunar sphere, 
In silent hour, address your ardent call 
For aid immortal ; less her brother's right. 
She, with the spheres harmonious, nightly leads 
The mazy dance, and hears their matchless strain ; 
A strain for gods, denied to mortal ear. 
Transmit it heard, thou silver queen of Heaven ! 
What title, or what name, endears thee mosti 
Cynthia ! Cyllene ! Phcebe ! — or dost hear 

With higher gust, fair P d of the skies ? 

Is that the soft enchantment calls thee down, 

More powerful than of old Circean charm "? 

Come : but from heavenly banquets with thee bring 

The soul of song, and whisper in mine ear 

The theft divine ; or in propitious dreams 

(For dreams are thine) transfuse it through the breast 

Of thy first votary but not thy last ; . 

If, like thy namesake, thou art ever kinQv 

And kind thou wilt be ; kind on such a theme ; 
A theme so like thee, a quite lunar theme, 
Soft, modest, melancholy, female, fair ! 
A theme that rose all pale, and told my soul 
'Twas night ; on her fond hopes perpetual night ; 
A night which struck a damp, a deadlier damp 
Than that which smote me from Philander's tomb. 
Narcissa follows ere his tomb is closed. 
Woes cluster ; rare are solitary woes ; 
They love a train, they tread each other's heel : 
Her death invades his mournful right, and claims 
The grief that started from my lids for him : 

i, *At the Duke of Norfolk's Masqnerade, 



Seizes the faithless, alienated tear, 
Or share< it ere it falls. So frequent death, 
Sorrow he more than cau-e?, he confounds ; 
For human sighs hi< rival strokes contend, 
And make di -tress distraction. O Philander ! 
What was thy fate 7 A double fate to me ; 
Portent, and p;iin I a menace, and a blow ! 
Like the black raven hovering o'er my peace ; 
Not less a bird of omen than of prey. 
It call'd \arcissa long before her hour ; 
It call'd her tender soul, by break of bli<s, 
From the first blossom, from the buds of joy ; 
Those few our noxious fate unblasted leaves 
In this inclement clime of human lite. 

Sweet harmonist I and beiutiful as sweet! 
And young as beautiful ! and soft as young ! 
And gay as soft ! and innocent as gay I 
And huppy (if aught happy here) as good I 
For fortune fond had built her ne>t ou high. 
Like birds quite exqui ite of note and plume, 
Transfix'd by late, (who loves a lofty ni'uk,) 
How from tiie summit of the grove he tell, 
And left it uuharmonious I all it, charms 
Extingui-h'd in the wonders of her song ! 
Her song ^till vibr.ites in my ravi-h'd ear, 
Still melting there, and with voluptuou; pain 
(Oh, to forg-it her !) thnlling through my tieart! 

Song, be.iuty, youth, love, virtue, joy ; this group 
Of bright idea-, flowers of paradi e. 
As yet unforfeit : in one blaze we bind. 
Kneel, and present it to the skies ; as all 
We guess of Heaven : and these were all her own, 
And she was mine, and I was ! — was ! — most bless'd— • 
Gay title of the deepest misery ! 
As bodies grow more ponderous, robb'd of life : 
Good lost weighs more in grief than gain'd in joy 
Like blossom'd trees, o'ertarn' d by vernal storm, 
Lovely in death the beauteous rum lay : 
And if in death still lovely, lovelier there : 
Far lovelier ! pity swells the tide of love. 



36 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 111. 

And will not the severe excuse a sigh 1 
Scorn the proud man that is ashamed to weep; 
Our tears indulged indeed deserve our shame. 
Ye that e'er lo^t an angel, pity me ! 

Soon as the lustre lauguish'd in her eye, 
Dawning a dinnner day on human sight ; 
And on her cheek the residence of spring, 
Pale omen sat ; and scatter'd fears around 
On all that saw (and who would cease to gaze, 
That once had seen ?) With haste, parental haste, 
I flew, I snatch'd her from the rigid north, 
Her native bed, on which bleak Boreas blew, 
And bore her nearer to the sun ; the sun 
(As if the sun could envy) check'd his beam, 
Denied his wonted succor ; nor with more 
Regret beheld her drooping, than the bells 
Of lilies ; fairest lilies, not so fair ! 

Q,ueen lilies ! and ye painted populace ! 
Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrosial lives ! 
In morn and evening dew your beauties bathe, 
And drink the sun ; which gives your cheeks to gloWj 
And out-blush (mine excepted) every fair ; 
You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand, 
Which often cropp'd your odours, incense meet 
To thought so pure ! Ye lovely fugitives ! 
Coeval race with man ! lor man you smile ; 
Why not smile at him too 7 You share indeed 
His sudden pass ! but not his constant pain. 

So man is made ; nought ministers delight, 
But what his glowing passions can engage : 
And glowing passions bent on aught below. 
Must, soon or late, with anguish turn the scale j 
And anguish, after raptiue, how severe ! 
Rapture 1 Bold man ! who tempts the wrath divine, 
By plucking fruit denied to mortal taste ; 
While here, presuming on the rights of Heaven. 
For transport dost thou call on every hour, 
Lorenzo 1 At thy friend's expense be wise : 
Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart J 
A broken reed at best ; but oft a spear ; 



NARCISSA. 37 

On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires. 

Turn, hopeless thought ! tiu-n from her : — Thought 
Resenting rallies, and wakes every woe. [repell'd 
Snatch'd ere thy prime ! and in thy bridal hour ! 
And when kind fortune, with thy lover, smiled ! 
And when high-flavor'd by fresh opening joys ! 
And when blind man pronounced thy bliss complete ! 
And on a foreign shore ! where strangers wept ! 
Strangers to thee ; and, more surprising still. 
Strangers to kindness, wept: their eyes let fall 
Inhuman tears : strange tears ! that trickled down 
From marble hearts ! obdurate tenderness ! 
A tenderness that call'd them more severe ; 
In spite of nature's soft persuasion, steel'd ; 
While nature melted, superstition raved ! 
That mourii'd the dead ; and this denied a grave. 

Their sighs incensed ; sighs foreign to the will! 
Their will the tiger suck'd, outraged the storm. 
For oh ! the curs'd ungodliness of zeal ! 
While sinful flesh relented, spirit nursed 
In blind infallil)ility's embrace, 
The sainted spirit petrified the breast; 
Denied the charity* of dust, to spread 
O'er dust I a charity their dogs enjoy. 
What could I do 1 what succor 1 what resource 1 
With pious sacrilege a grave I stole ; 
With impious piety that grave I wrong'd ; 
Short in my duty; coward in my grief! 
Wore like her murderer than friend, I crept, 
With soft suspended step, and muffled deep 
In midnight darkness, whisper'd my last sigh. 
I whisper'd what should echo through their realms; 
Nor writ her name, whose tomb should pierce the 
Presumptuous fear ! how durst I dread her foes fskies. 
While nature's loudest dictates I obey'd 1 
Pardon necessity, bless'd shade ! of grief 
And indignation rival bursts I pour'd: 
Half execration mingled ^^■ith my prayer ; 
Kindled at man, while I his God adored ; 
Sore grudged the savage land her sacred dust ; 



30 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 

Stamp'd the cursed soil ; and, with humanity 
(Denied Narcissa,) wish'd them all a grave. 

Glows my resentment into guilt 1 What guilt 
Can equal violations of the dead ? 
The dead how sacred ! Sacred is the dust 
Of this Heaven-labor'd form, erect, divine! 
This Heaven-assumed majestic robe of earth 
He deignd to wear, who hung the vast expanse 
With azure bright, and clothed the sun in gold. 
When every passion sleeps that can offend ; 
When strikes us every motive that can melt ; 
When man can wreak his rancor uncontrolled, 
That strongest curb on insult and ill will ; 
Then, spleen to dust ? the dust of innocence ! 
An angel's dust ! — This Lncifer transcends : 
When he contended for the patriarch's bones, 
'Twas not the strife of malice, but of pride ; 
The strife of pontiff pride, not pontiff gall. 

Far less than this is shocking in a race 
Most wretched, but from streams of nuitual love 
And uncreated, but for love divine ; 
And, but for love divine, this moment, lost, 
By fate resorb'd, and sunk in endless night. 
Man hard of heart to man ! of horrid things 
Most horrid ! 'mid stupendous, highly strange ! 
Yet oft his courtesies are smoother wrongs ; 
Pride brandishes the favors he confers, 
And contumelious his humanity : 
What then is vengeance 1 Hear it not, ye stars ! 
And thou, pale moon I turn paler at the sound ; 
Man is to man the sorest, surest ill. 
A previous blast foretells the rising storm ; 
O'erwhelming turrets threaten ere they fall ; 
Volcanoes bellow ere they disembogue ; 
Earth trembles ere her yawning jaws devour ; 
And smoke betrays the wide consuming fire : 
Ruin from man is most conceal'd when near, 
And sends the dreadful tidings in the blow. 
Is this the flight of fancy 1 Would it were ! 
Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but himself, 



NA.RCISSA.. OJT 

That hideous sight, a naked human heart. 

Fired is the muse 7 And let the muse be fired : 
Who not inflamed, when what he speaks he feels, 
And in the nerve most tender, in his friends "? 
Shame to mankind ! Philander had his foes ; 
He felt the truths I sing, and I in him'. 
But he, nor I, feel more : past ills, Narcissa ! 
Are sunk in thee, thou recent wound of heart ! 
Which bleeds with other cares, with other pangs; 
Pangs numerous, as the numerous ills that swarm'd 
O'er thy distinguish'd fate, and, clustering there 
Thick as the locusts on the land of Nile, 
Made death more deadly, and more dark the grave. 
Reflect (if not forgot my touching tale,) 
How was each circumstance with aspics arra'd"? 
An aspic each ! and all, a Hydra woe : 
What strong Herculean virtue could suffice ? — 
Or is it virtue to be conquerM here 1 
This hoary cheek a train of tears bedews : 
And each tear mourns its own distinct distress ; 
And each distress, distinctly mourn'd, demands 
Of grief still more, as heighten'd by the whole. 
A grief like this, proprietors excludes : 
Not friends alone such oltsequies deplore ; 
They make mankind the mourner ; carry sighs 
Far as the fatal Fame can wing her way ; 
And turn the gayest thought of gayest age, 
Down their right channel, through the vale of death. 

The vale of death ! that hush'd Cimmerian vale, 
Where darkness, brooding o'er unfinish'd fates, 
With raven wing incumbent, waits the day 
(Dread day !) that interdicts all future change ! 
That subterranean world, that land of ruin ! 
Fit walk, Lorenzo, for proud human thought! 
There let my thoughts expatiate, and explore 
Balsamic truths, and healing sentiments ; 
Of all most wanted, and most welcome, here. 
For gay Lorenzo's sake, and for thy own, 
My soul ! " The fruits of dying friends survey ; 
Expose the vain of life ; weigh life and death ; 



40. THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT III. 

Give death his eulogy ; thy fear subdue ; 
And labour that first palm of noble minds, 
A manly scorn of terror from the tomb." 

This harvest reap from thy Narcissa's grave. 
As poets feign'd, from Ajax' streaming blood, 
Arose, with grief inscribed, a mournful flower ; 
Let wisdom blossom from my mortal wound. 
And first, of dying friends ; what fruit from these 1 
It brings us more than triple aid ; an aid 
To chase our thoughtlessness, fear, pride, and guilt. 

Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, 
To damp our brainless ardours ; and abate 
That glare of life, which often blinds the wise. 
Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth 
Our rugged pass to death ! to break those bars 
Of terror, and abhorrence, nature throws 
Cross our obstructed way ; and thus to make 
Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm. 
Each friend by fate snatch'd from us is a plume 
Pluck'd from the wing of human vanity, 
Which makes us stoop from our aerial heights, 
And damp'd with omen of our own decease. 
On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd 
Just skim earth's surface ere we break it up ; 
O'er putrid earth to scratch a little dust. 
And save the world a nuisance. Smitten friends 
Are angels sent on errands full of love ; 
For us they languish and for us they die : 
And shall they languish, shall they die in vain 1 
Ungrateful, shall we grieve their hovering shades 
Which wait the revolution in our hearts ■? 
Shall we disdain their silent, soft address 
Their posthumous advice, and pious prayer ? 
Senseless as herds that graze their hallow'd graves, 
Tread under foot their agonies and groans ; 
Frustrate their anguish, and destroy their deaths 1 

Lorenzo ! no ; the thought of death indulge ; 
Give it its wholesome empire ! let it reign, 
That kind chastiser of thy soiil in joy I 
Its reign will spread thy glorious conquests far, 



NARCISSA. 41 

And still the tumults of thy ruffled hreast : 
Auspicious era ! golden days, begin ! 
The thought of death shall, like a god, inspire. 
And why not think of death 1 Is life the theme 
Of every thought 1 and wish of every hour ? 
And song of every joy 1 Surprising truth ! 
The beaten spaniel's fondness not so strange. 
To wave the numerous ills that sieze on life 
As their own poperty, their lawful prey ; 
Ere man has measured half his weary stage, 
His luxuries have left him no reserve, 
No maiden relishes, unbroach'd delights ; 
On cold-served repetitions he subsists, 
And in the tasteless present chews the past ; 
Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down. 
Like lavish ancestors, his earlier years 
Have disinherited his future houjs, 
Which starve on orts, and glean their former field. 
Live ever here, Lorenzo 1 — shocking thought ! 
So shocking, they who wish disown it too ; 
Disown from shame, what they from folly crave. 
Live ever in the « onib, nor see the light 1 
For what live ever here 1 — With labouring step 
To tread our footsteps ? pace the round 
Eternal 1 to climb life's worn, heavy wheel. 
Which draws up nothing new 1 to beat and beat 
The beaten track 1 to bid each wretched day 
The former mock ? to surfeit on the same, 
And yawn our joys 1 or thank a misery 
F'or change, though sad 1 to see what we have seen 1 
Hear, till unheard, the same old slabber'd tale 1 
To taste the tasted, and at each return 
Less tasteful 7 o'er our palates to decant 
Another vintage 1 strain a flatter year. 
Through loaded vessels, and a laxer tone 1 
Crazy nmchines to grind earth's wasted fruits ! 
Ill ground, and worse concocted I load, not life ! 
The rational foul kennels of excess ! 
Still streaming thoroughfares of dull debauch ! fbowl. 
Trembling each gulp, lest death should snatch tho 



42 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT III. 

Such of onr fine ones is the wish refined ! 
So would they have it : elegant desire ! 
Why not invite the bellowing stalls and wilds'? 
But such examples might their riot awe. 
Through want of virtue, that is, want of thought, 
(Though on bright thought they father all their 
To what are they reduced ? To love and hate [flights) 
The same vain world : to censure and espouse 
This painted siirew of life, who calls them fool 
Each moment of each day ; to flatter bad 
Through dread of worse ; to cling to this rude rock, 
Barren, to them, of good, and sharp with ills, 
And hourly blacken'd with impending storms. 

And infamous for wrecks of human hope 

Scared at the gloomy gulf that yawns beneath : 
Such are their triumphs, such their pangs of joy ! 

'Tis time, high time to shift this dismal scene. 
This hugg'd, this hideous state what art can cure 1 
One only ; but that one, what all may reach; 
Virtue — she, wonder-working goddess ! charms 
That rock to bloom ; and tames the painted shrew ; 
And what will more surprise, Lorenzo ! gives. 
To life's sick, nauseous iteration, change ; 
And straightens nature's circle to a line. 
Believest thou this Lorenzo "? Lend an ear, 
A patient ear ; thou'lt blush to disbelieve. 

A languid, leaden iteration reigns. 
And ever must, o'er those whose joys are joys 
Of sight, smell, taste : the cuckoo seasons sing 
The same dull note to such as nothing prize, 
But what those seasons from the teeming earth 
To doting sense indulge. But nobler minds. 
Which relish fruits unripen'd by the sun. 
Make their days various ; various as the dyes 
On the dove's neck, which wanton in his rays. 
On minds of dovelike innocence possess'd, 
On lighten'd minds, that bask in virtue's beams, 
Nothing hangs tedious, nothing old revolves 
In that for which they long, for which they live. 
Their glorious efforts, wing'd with heavenly hope, 



Each rising morning sees still higher nse ; 

Each boiinteoui dawn iti novelty presents 

To worth maturing, new strength, lustre, fame , 

While nature's circle, like a chariot-wheel 

Rolling beneath their elevated aims, 

Makes their fair prospect fairer every hour ; 

Advancing virtue, in a line to bliss ; 

Virtue, which Christian motives best inspire ! 

And bliss, which Christian schemes alone ensure ! 

And shall we then, for virtue's sake, commence 
Apostates ? and turn iufidei> for joy ? 
A truth it is, few doubt, but fewer trust, 
" He sins against this life who slights the next." 
What is this life ? How few their favourite know ! 
Fond in the dark, and blind in our embrace, 
By passionately loving life, we make 
Loved life unlovely ; hugging her to death. 
We give to time eternity's regard ; 
And, dreaming, take our passage for our port. 
Life has no value as an end, but means ; 
An end, deplorable ! a means, divine ! 
When 'tis our all, 'tis nothing ; worse than nought ; 
A nest of pains ; when held as nothing, much : 
Like some fair hum'rists, life is most enjoy'd 
When courted least ; most worth, when disesteem'd : 
Then 'tis the seat of comfort, rich in peace ; 
In prospect richer far ; important ! awful ! 
Not to be mention'd, but with shouts of praise I 
Not to be thought on, but with tides of joy ! 
The mighty basis of eternal bliss ! 

Where now the barren rock 1 the painted shrew "? 
Where now, Lorenzo ! life's eternal round? 
Have I not made my triple promise good ? 
Vain is the world ; but only to the vain. 
To what compare we then this varying scene, 
Whose worth ambiguous rises and declines 1 
Waxes, and. wanes 1 (In all propitious, night 
Assists me here :) Compare it to the moon ; 
Dark in herself, and indigent ; but rich 
In borrow'd lustre from a higher sphere. 



44 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT III. 

When gross guilt interposes, lab'ring earth, 
O'ershadow'd, mourns a deep eclip>e of joy; 
Her joys, at brightest, pallid, to that font 
Of full effulgent glory, whence they flow. 

Nor is that glory distant : O Lorenzo ! 
A good man, and an angel ! the^^e between, 
How thin the barrier ! What divides their fate ? 
Perhaps a moment, or perhaps a year, 
Or, if an age, it is a moment still ; 
A moment, or eternity's forgot. 
Then be, what once theyrvere, who now are gods 
Be what Philander was* and claim the skies. 
Starts timid nature at the gloomy pass 1 
The soft transition call it ; and be cheer'd ; 
Such it is often, and why not to thee ? 
To hope the best is pious, brave, and wise ; 
And may itself procure what it presumes. 
Life is much flatter'd, death is much traduced; 
Compare the rivals, and the kinder crown. 
" Strange competition ! " — True, Lorenzo ! strange ! 
So little life can cast into the scale. 

Lite makes the soul dependent on the dust ; 
Death gives her wing>; to mount above the spheres. 
Through chinks, styled organs, dim life peeps at light : 
Death burets th' involving cloud, and all is day; 
All eye, all ear, the disembodied power. 
Death has feign'd evils, nature shall not feel ; 
Life, ills substantial, wi-<dom cannot shun. 
Is not the mighty mind, that son of heaven ! 
By tyrant life dethroned, imprison'd pain'd ? 
By death enlarged, ennobled, deified 1 
Death but entombs the body ; life the soul. 

" Is death then guiltless ? How he marks his way 
With dreadful waste of what deserves to shine ! 
Art, genius, fortune, elevated power ! 
With various lustres the-e light up the world, 
Which death puts out, and darkens human race." 
I grant, Lorenzo ! this indictment just: 
The sage, peer, potentate, king, conqueror'! 
Death humbles these ; more barb'rous life, the man. 



KARCISSA. 45 

Life is the triumph of our mouldering clay ; 
Death ! of the spirit infinite ! divine ! 
Death has no dread, but what frail life imparts ; 
Nor life true joy, but what kind death improves. 
No bliss has lite to boast, till death can give 
Far greater ; life's a debtor to the grave, 
Dark lattice 1 letting in eternal day. 

Lorenzo I blush at fondness for a life 
Which sends celestial souls on errands vile, 
To cater for the sense ; and-serye at boards 
Where every ranger of the wilds, perhaps 
Each reptile, justly claims our upper hand. 
Luxurious feast I a soul, a soul immortal. 
In all the dainties of a brute benured : 
Lorenzo ! blush at tenor for a death 
Which gives thee to repo.-e in festive bowers, 
Where nectars sparkle, angels minister, 
And more than angels share, and raise, and crown, 
And eternize the birth, bloom, bursts of bliss. 
What need 1 more 1 O death, the palm is thine. 

Then welcome, death 1 thy dreadful harbingers, 
Age and disease ; disease, though long my guest ; 
That plucks my nerves, those tender strings of life : 
Which, pluck'd a little more, will toll the bell 
That calls my few friends to my funeral ; 
Where feeble nature drops, perhaps, a tear, 
While reason and religion, better taught, 
Congratulate the dead, and crown his tomb 
With wreath triumphant. Death is victory! 
It binds in chains the raging ills of life : 
Lust and ambition, wrath and avarice, 
Dragg'd at his chariot-wheel, applaud his power. 
That ills corrosive, cares importunate, 
Are not immortal too, O death ; is thine. 
Our day of dissolution ! — name it right, 
'Tis our great pay-day ; 'tis our harvest, rich 
And ripe : what though the sickle, sometimes keen, 
Just scars us as we reap the golden grain 1 
More than thy balm, O Gilead ! heals the wound. 
Birth's feeble cry and death's deep dismal groan, 



46 THE COMPLAINT. NIOHT III. 

Are slender tributes low-tax'd nature pays 
For mighty g;iin : the gain of each, a life ! 
But oh ! the last the former so transcends, 
Life dies, compared ! life lives beyond the grave. 

And I'eel I, Death ! no joy from thought of thee 1 
Death, the great counsellor, who man inspires 
With every nobler thought, and fairer deed ! 
Death, the deliverer, who rescues man! 
Death, the rewarder, who the rescued crowns ! 
Deivth, that absolves my birth ! a curse without it ! 
Rich death, that realizes all my cares, 
Toils, virtues, hopes ; without it a chimera ! 
Death, of all pain the period, not of joy : 
Joy's source, and subject, still subsist unhurt : 
One, in my soul ; and one, in her great Sire ; 
Though the four winds were warring for my dust. 
Yes, aiid from winds, and waves, and central night, 
Though prison'd there, my dust too I reclaim 
(To dust when drop proud nature's proudest spheres,) 
And live entire. Death is the crown of life : 
Were death denied, poor man would live in vain ; 
Were death denied, to live would not be litis ; 
Were denth denied, even fools would wish to die. 
Death wounds to cure ; we fall ; we rise ; we reign! 
Spring from our fetters ; listen in the skies ; 
Where blooming Eden withers in our sight : 
Death gives us more than was in Eden lost. 
This king of terrors is the prince of peace. 
When shall I die to vanity, pain, death 1 
When shall I die 1— When shall I live for ever'? 



tNiflftt tU iFouvtl). 

THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 



CONTAINING 



OUR ONLY CURE FOR THE FKAR OF DEATH, AND PRO- 
PER SENTIMENTS OF HEART ON THAT 
INTERESTING BLESSING. 

TO THE HONORABLE MK. YORKE. 



A MITCH indebted muse, O Yorke ! intrudes. 
Amid the smiles of fortune, and of youth, 
Thine car is patient of a serious song. 
How deep implanted in the breast of man 
The drcid of death ! I sing its sovereign cure. 

Why ? tart at death? Where is he? Death arrived 
Is pass'd ; not come, or gone, he's never here. 
Ere hope, sensation fails ; black-boding man 
Receive^, not suffers death's tremendous blow. 
The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave ; 
The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm ; 
These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, 
The terrors of the living, not the dead. 
Imagination's fool, and error's wretch, 
Man makes a death, which nature never made : 
Then on the point of his own fancy falls ; 
And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. 

But were death frightful, what has age to fear 1 
If prudent, age shoulil meet the friendly foe, 
And shelter in his hospitable gloom. 
I scarce can meet a monument, but holds 
My younger ; every date cries — " Come away." 
And v/hat recalls me 1 Look the world around, 

47 



48 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

And tell me what : the wisest cannot tell. 
Should any born of woman frive his thought 
Full range, on just dislike's unbounded field ; 
Of things, the vanity ; of men, the flaws ; 
Flaws in the best ; the many, flaw all o'er ; 
As leopards spotted, or as Ethiops dark ; 
Vivacious ill ; good dying immature ; 
(How immature, Nakcissa's marble tells!) 
And at his death bequeathing endless pain ; 
His heart, though bold, would sicken at the sight, 
And spend itself in sighs for future scenes. 

But grant to life (and just it is to grant 
To lucky life) some perquisites of joy ; 
A time there is, when, like a thrice-told tale, 
Long-rifled life of sweet can yield no more, 
But, from our comment on the comedy, 
Pleasing reflections on parts well sustain'd, 
Or purposed emendations where we fail'd ; 
Or hopes of plaudits from our candid Judge, 
When, on their exit, souls are bid unrobe, 
Toss fortune back her tinsel and her plume, 
And drop this mask of flesh behind the scene. 

With me, that time is come ; my world is dead ', 
A new world rises, and new manners reign ; 
Foreign comedians, a spruce band ! arrive, 
To push me from the scene, or hiss me there, 
What a pert race starts up ! the strangers gaze, 
And I at them ; my neighbor is unknown : 
Nor that the worst : ah me ! the dire eflfect 
Of loitering here, of death defrauded long; 
Of old so gracious (and let that suffice) 
My very master knows me not. 

Shall I dare say, peculiar is the fate 1 
I've been so long reniember'd, I'm forgot. 
An object ever pressing dims the sight, 
And hides behind its ardour to be seen. 
When in his courtiers' ears I pour my plaint, 
They drink it as the nectar of the great ; 
And squeeze my hand, and beg me come to-morroW I 
Refusal ! canst thou wear a smoother form 1 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. « 

Indulge me, nor conceive I drop my theme : 
Who cheapens life iibates the fear of death. 
Twice told the period spent on stubborn Troy, 
Court favor, yet untaken, I besiege ; 
Ambition's ill-judged effort to be rich. 
Alas ! ambition makes my little less ! 
Imbittering the posse ss'd : why wish for more 1 
Wishing, of all employments, is the worst; 
Philosophy's reverse, and health's decay ! 
Were I as plump as stall'd theology, 
Wishing would waste me to this shade again ; 
Were I as wealthy as a South-Sea dream, 
Wishing is an expedient to be poor. 
Wishing, that constant hectic of a fool ; 
Caught at a court ; purged off by purer air, 
And simpler diet ; gifts of rural life ! 
Bless'd be that hand divine, which gently laid 
My heart at re<t, beneath this hiuiible shed. 
The world's a stately bark, on dangerous seas, 
With pleasure seen, but boardeil at our peril ; 
Here, on a single plank, thrown safe ashore, 
I hear the tunuilt of the distant throng. 
As that of seas remote, or dying storms : 
And meditate on scenes more silent still ; 
Pursue my theme, and fight the fear of death. 
Here, like a shepherd gazing from his hut. 
Touching his reed, or leaning on his staff. 
Eager ambition's fiery chase I see ; 
I see the circling hunt of noisy men 
Burst law's enclosure, leap the mounds of right. 
Pursuing and pursued, each other's prey : 
As wolves for rajjine ; as the fox for wiles ; 
Till death, that mighty hunter, earths them all. 

Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour 1 
What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame 7 
Earth's highest station ends in, " Here he lies." 
And " Dust to dust" concludes her noblest song. 
If this song lives, posterity shall know 
One, though in Britain born, with courtiers bred, 
4Vho thought even gold might come a day too late ; 
4 



50 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV 

Nor on his subtle death-bed plann'd his scheme 
For future vacancies in church or state ; 

Some avocation deeming it to die, 

Unbit by rage canine of dying rich ; 

Guilt's blunder ! and the loudest laugh of hell ! 

O my coevals I remnants of yourselves ! 
Poor human ruins, tottering o'er the grave ! 
Shall \v«, shall aged men, like aged trees, 
Strike deeper their vile root, ancl closer cling, 
Stilt more enamor'dof this wretched soil 1 
Shall our pale wither'd hands be still stretch'd out, 
Trembling at once with eagerness and age 1 
With avarice, and convulsions, grasping hard? 
Grasping at air ! for what has earth heside 1 
Man wants but little; nor that little long: 
How soon must he resign his very dnst, 
Which frugal natnre lent him for an hour I 
Years unexperienced rush on numerous ills; 
And soon as man, expert from time, has found 
The key of life, it opes the gates of death. 

When in this vale of years I hackward look, 
And miss such nund)ers, nu'ndiers loo of such, 
Firmer in health, and greener in their age, 
And stricter on their guard, and (liter far 
To play life's subtle game, I scarce l(elie\e 
I still survive : and am 1 fond of life, 
Who scarce can think it possilile, 1 live"? 
Alive by miracle ; or, what is next. 
Alive by Mead ! if I am still alive. 
Who long have Imried u hat gives life to live, 
Firnmess of nerve, and energy of thought. 
Life's lee is not more shallow than impure 
And vapid ; sense and reason show the door. 
Call for my bier, and point me to the dust. 

O thou great Arbiter of life and death I 
Nature's immortal, iuuuaterial Sun I 
Whose all prolific beam late cali'd me forth 
From darkness, teeming darkness, where 1 lay 
The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath 
The dust I tread on, high to bear my Lro\v» 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 51 

To drink the spirit of the gohien clay, 
And tiiiiniph in existence ; and couklst know 
No motive, hut my bliss ; and hast ordain'd 
A rise in blessing! with the patriarch's joy, 
Thy call 1 follow to the land iinknown : 
I trust ia Thee, and know in whom I trust; 
Or life or death is equal ; neither weighs : 
All weight in this— Oh let me live to Thee ! 

Though nature's terrors thus may be repress'd ; 
Still frowns grim death: guilt points the tyrant's spear. 
And whence all human guilt 1 From death forgot. 
Ah me : too long I set at nought the swarm 
Of friendly warnings, which around me flew ; 
And smiled, unsmitten : small my cause to smile! 
Death's admonitions, like shafts upward shot, 
More dreadlul by delay, the longer ere 
They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wounil. 
Oh think how deep, Lorknzo I — here it stings I 
Who can appease its anguish 1 How it burns 1 
What hand the barb'd, envenom'd thought can drawl 
What healing hand cutn pour the balm of peace : 
And turn my sight undaunted on the tond) ? 

With j(iy, — with grief, that healing hand I see ; 
Ah ! too consjiicuous ; it is tix'd on high. 
On high 7— What means my frenzy 1 1 blaspheme : 
Alasl how low! how far beneath the skies! 
The skies it form'd ; and now it bleeds for me — 
I5iil bleeds the balm I want— yet still it bleeds. 
Draw the dire steel — Ah, no! the dreadful blessing 
What heart or can sustain or dares forego 1 
There hangs all human hope ; that nail supports 
The lalling universe : that gone, we drop ; 
Ilornn- receives us, and the dismal wish 
Creation had been smolher'd in her birth — 
Darkness his curtain, and his bed the dust; 
When stars and sun are dust beneath his throne ! 
In heaven itself can such indulgence dwell 1 
Oh, what a groan was there ! a groan not His. 
He seized our dreadful right; the load sustain'd; 
And heaved the mountain from a guilty world. 



aa THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

A thousand worlds, so bought, were bought too dear; 
Sensations new in ai. gels' bosoms ri^e ; 
Suspend their song, and make a pause in bliss. 

Oh, for their song, to reach my lofty theme ! 
Inspire me, night I with all thy tuneful spheres, 
Whilst I with serajdis share seraphic themes, 
And show to men the dignity of man ; 
Lest I Itlaspheme my subject with my song. 
Shall Pagan i)ages glow celestial flame, 
And Christian languish ? On our hearts, not heads, 
Falls the foul infamy. My heart ! awake 
What can awake thee, una waked by this, 
" Expended Deity on human weal V' 
Feel the great truths, which burst the tenfold night 
Of Heathen error, with a golden flood 
Of endless day : to feel is to be fired ; 
And to believe, Lorenzo ! is to feel. 

Thou most indulgent, most tremendous Power! 
Still more tremendous for thy wondrous love ! 
That arms, with awe more awful, thy connnands; 
And foul transgression dips in sevenlbld guilt ; 
How our hearts trend)le at thy love immense ; 
In love immense, invifilably just ! 
Thou, rather than thy justice should be stain'd, 
Didst stain the cross ; and, work of wonders far 
The greatest, that thy Dearest far might bleed. 

Bold thought! shall I dare speak it or repress 1 
Should man more execrate or boast the guilt 
Which roused such vengeance ? which such, love 

inflamed ? 
0'erguilt(how m(mntainousI)vvith outstretch'd arms, 
Stern justice and soft-smiling love embrace. 
Supporting, in full majesty, thy throne. 
When seem'd its majesty to need support. 
Or that or man inevitably lost 1 
What, but the fathomless of thought divine, 
Could labor such expedient from despair. 
And rescue both 1 Both rescue ! both exalt ! 
Oh, how are both exalted by the deed ! 
The wondrous deed ! or shall I call it more 1 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 53 

A wonder in omnipotence it<ell'! 
A mystery no less to g(;(l.-; th m men 

Not thu.-s our infidels the Etenuil draw ; 
A God all o'er, consiuiinr.ue, absolute, 
FuU-orb'd, in his whole round of nys complete: 
They set at odds He;iven's jarring attrihutes ; 
And with one excellence another wound ; 
Maim Fie iven's perfection, bre ik it? equal beams, 
Bid mercy triumph over — God himself, 
Undeified by their opprobrious praise : 
A God all mercy is a God unjust. 

Ye brainless wits ! ye bai)tized iqfidels ! 
Ye worse for mending ! wash'd to fouler stains ! 
The ransom was paid down : the fund of Heaven, 
Heaven's inexhaustible, exhauUed fund, 
Amazing and amazed, poured forth the price, 
All price beyond : though curious to compute, 
Archangels "tail'd to cast the mighty sum : 
Its value vast, ungrasp'd by minds create, 
For ever hides, and glows, in the Supreme. 

And was the ransom paid ? it was : and paid 
(What can exalt the bounty more 1) for you, 
The sun beheld it — No, the shocking scene 
Drove back his chariot: midnight veil'd his face; 
Not such as this ; not such as nature makes ; 
At midnight nature shudder'd to behold ; 
A midnight new ! a dread eclipse (without 
Opposing spheres,) from her Creator's frown ! 
Sun ! didst thou fly thy Maker's pain ? or start 
At that enormous load of human guilt, [cross; 

Which bow'd his blessed head; o'erwhelm'd his 
Made proan the centre ; burst earth's marble womb, 
With pangs, strange pangs ! deliver'd of her dead ! 
Hell howl'd ; and Heaven that hour let fall a tear ; 
Heaven wept, that men might smile ! Heaven bled, 
Might never die ! [that maa 

And is devotion virtue 1 'Tis compell'd : 
What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these? 
Such contemplations mount us ; and should mount 
The mind still higher ; nor e'er glance on man. 



54 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

Unraptured, nninflaiiied. Where roll my thoughts 

To rest from wonders 1 Other wonders rise ; 

And strike where'er they roll : my soul is caught : 

Heaven's sovereign blessings, clust'ring from the 

Rush on her, in a throng, and close her round, [cross, 

The pris'ner of amaze 1 — In his bless'd life 

I see the path, and in his death the price, 

And in his great ascent the proof supreme 

Of immortality. — And did He rise 1 

Hear, O ye nations ! Hear it, O ye dead ! 

He rose ! He rose ! He burst the bars of death. 

Lift up your hea'ds, ye everlasting gates ! 

And give the King of glory to come in. 

Who is the Iving of glory "J he who left 

His throne of glory for the pang of death ! 

Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates ! 

And give the King of glory to come in. 

Who is the King of glory 7 He who slew 

The rav'nous foe that gorg'd all human race ! 

The King of glory. He, whose glory fJU'd 

Heaven with amazement at his love to man ; 

And with divine complacency beheld 

Powers most illumined wilder'd in the theme. 

The theme, the joy, how then shall maxi sustain ! 
Oh the burst gates ! crush'd sting ! demolish'd throne! 
Last gasp of vanquish'd death. Shout, earth and 
This sum of good to man: whose nature then [heaven! 
Took U'ing, and mounted with him from the tomb ! 
Then, then I rose ; then lirst humanity 
Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light, 
(Stupendous guest !) and seized eternal youth, 
Seized in our name. E'er since, 'tis blasphemous 
To call man mortal. Man's mortality 
Was then transferred to death; and heaven's duration 
Unalienably seal'd to this frail frame. 
This child of dust,— Man, all-immortal ! hail ; 
Hail, Heaven ! all lavish of strange gifts to man ! 
Thine all the glory ! man's the boundless bliss. 

Where am I rapt by tliis triumphant theme 1 
Christian joy's exulting wing, above 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIOMPH. 55 

The Aonian mount ? — Alas I small cause for joy I 

What if to pain immortal 1 if extent 

Of being, to preciiule a close of woe 7 

Where then njy hoast of immortality'? 

I boast it still, though cover'd o'er with guilt : 

For guilt, not innocence, his life he pour'd; 

'Tis guilt alone can justify his death I 

Nor that, unless his death can justify 

Relenting guilt in Heaven's indulgent sight. 

If, sick of folly, I relent, he writes 

My naiue in heaven witli that inverted spear 

(A spear deep dipped in bloo<l !) which pierced his 

And open'd there a font for all mankind, [side, 

W"ho stri\ e, who combat crimes, to drink and live : 

This, only this subdues the fear of death. 

And what is this ? — Survey the wondrous cure; 
And, at each step, let higher wonder rise ! 
*' Pardon for infinite otience I and pardon 
Through means that speak its value intinite ! 
A pardon bought with blood I with blood divine ! 
With blood divine of Him 1 made my foe ! 
Persisted to provoke ! though woo'd and awed, 
Bless'd and chastised, a tiagrant rebel still ! 
A rebel, midst the thunders of his throne ! 
Nor I alone ! a rebel universe 1 
My species up in arms ! not one exempt ! 
Yet for the foulest of the foul he dies ; 
Most joy'd for the redeeni'd from deepest guUt ! 
As if our race were held of highest rank ; 
And Godhead dearer, as more kind to man !" 

Bound, every heart ! and, every bosom, burn I 
Oh, what a scale of miracles is here I 
Its lowest round high planted on the skies ; 
Its towering summit lost beyond the thought 
Of man or angel ! Oh, that 1 could climb 
The wonderful ascent with equal praise ! 
Praise ! flow for ever (if astonishment 
Will give thee leave ;) my praise ! for ever flow ; 
Praise ardent, cordial, constant ; to high Heavea 
More fragrant than Arabia sacrificed, 



56 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

And all her spicy mountains in a flame. 

So dear, so due to Heaven, shall praise descend, 
With her soft plume (from plausive angels' wing 
First pluck'd by man) to tickle mortal ears, 
Thus diving in the pockets of the great 1 
Is praise the perquisite of every paw, 
Though black as hell, that grapples well for gold 1 
O love of gold ! thou meanest of amours ! 
Shall praise her odors waste on Virtues dead, 
Embalm the base, perfume the stench of guilt, 
Earn dirty bread by washing ^thiops fair, 
Removing filth, or sinking it from sight, 
A scavenger in scenes where vacant posts, 
Like gibbets yet \intenanted, expect 
Their future ornaments ? From courts and thrones 
Return apostate praise ! thou vagabond ! 
Thou prostitute ! to thy first love return, 
Thy first, thy greatest, once unrivall'd theme. 

There flow redundant ; like Meander flow, 
Back to thy fountain ; to that parent Power, 
Who gives the tongue to sound, the thought to soar, 
The soul to be. Men homage pay to men. 
Thoughtless beneath whose dreadful eye they bow, 
In mutual awe profound of clay to clay, 
Of guilt to guilt ; and turn their back on Thee, 
Great Sire ! whom thrones celestial ceaseless sing ; 
To prostrate angels an amazing scene I 
Oh the presumption of man's awe for man ! — 
Man's author ! end ! restorer I law ! and judge ! 
Thine, all; day thine, and thine this gloom of night, 
With all her wealth, with all her radiant worlds : 
What night eternal, but a frown from Thee 1 
What heaven's meridian glory, but thy smile 1 
And shall not praise be thine ? not human praise 1 
While heaven's high host on hallelujahs live 1 

Oh, may I breathe no longer than I breathe 
My soul in praise to HIM, who gave my soul. 
And all her infinite of prospect fair, 
Cut through the shades of hell, great Love ! by thee, 
O most adorable ! most unadored • 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 57 

Where shall that praise begin which ne'er should 
Where'er I turn, what claim on all applause ! [end 1 
How is night's sable mantle labor'd o'er ! 
How richly wrought with attributes divine ! [pomp, 
What wisdom shines ! What love ! This midnight 
This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid ! 
Built with divine ambition ! nought to thee ; 
For others this profusion : Thou, apart, 
Above I beyond ! Oh, tell me, mighty Mind ! 
Where art thou 1 Shall I dive into the deep ? 
Call to the sun, or ask the roaring winds 
For their Creator 1 Shall I question loud 
The thunder, if in that the Almighty dwells 1 
Or holds he furious storms in straiten 'd reins, 
And bids tierce whirlwinds wheel his rapid car 1 

What mean these questions ? — Trembling I retract; 
My prostrate soul adores the present God : 
Praise I a distant Deity ? He tunes , 

My voice ; (if tuned ;) the nerve that writes sustains ; 
Wrapp'd in his being, I resound his praise : 
But though past all diffused, without a shore 
His essence ; local is his throne, (as meet,) 
To gather the dispersed ; (as standards call 
The listed from afar ;) to fix a point, 
A central point, collective of his sons ; 
Since finite every nature but his own. 

The nameless HE, whose nod is nature's birth ; 
And nature's shield, the shadow of his hand ; 
Her dissolution His suspended smile ! 
The great First-Last ! pavilion'd high he sits 
In darkness, from excessive splendor, borne, 
By gods unseen, unless through lustre lost 
His glory, to created glory bright 
As that to central horrors : he looks dowu 
On all that soars ; and spans immensity. 

Though night unnumber'd worlds unfolds to view, 
Boundless creation '. what art thou 1 A beam, 
A mere effluvium of His majesty : 
And shall an atom of this atom world 
Mutter, in dust and sin, the theme of heaven"? 



58 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

Down to the centre should I send my thought, 

Through bed-s of glittering ore, and glowing gems ; 

Their beggar'd blaze vvanti lustre for my lay ; 

Goes out in darkness : if, on towering wing, 

I send it through the boundless vault of stirs ; 

(The -tars, tliough rich, what dross their gold to Thee, 

Great ! good ! wise ! wonderful ! eternal King !) 

If to those conscious stars thy throne around, 

Praise ever pouring, and imbibing bliss ; 

And ask their strain ; they want it, more they want, 

Poor their abundance, humble their sublime, 

Languid their energy, their ardor cold : 

Indebted still, their highest rapture burns; 

Short of its mark, defective, though divine. , 

Still more — This theme i- man's, and man's alone ; 
Their vast appointments reach it not : they see 
On earth a bounty not indulged on high ; 
And downward look for Heaven's superior praise ! 
First-born of ether ! high in fields of light ! 
View man, to see the glory of your God ! 
Could angels envy, they had envied here ; 
And some did envy ; and the rest, though gods, 
Yet still godi unredeem'd, (there triumphs man, 
Tempted to weigh the dust against the skies,) 
They less would feel, though more adorn, my theme 
They sung creation ; (for in that they shared ;) 
How rose in melody that child of love ! 
Creation's great superior, man ! is thine ; 
Thine is redemption: they just gave the key; 
'Tis thine to raise and eternize the song ; 
Though human, yet divine ; for should not this 
Raise man o'er man, and kindle seraphs here I 
Kedemption ! 'twas creation more sublime : 
Redemption ! 'twas the labor of the skies ; 
Far more than labor — it was death in heaven : 
A truth so strange ! 'twere bold to think it true. 
If not far bolder still to disbelieve. [heaven 1 

Here pause, and ponder — Was there death in 
What then on earth? on earth,which struck the blow? 
Who struck it 1 Who 1 Oh, how is man enlarged, 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 59 

Seen through this inediain ! how the pigmy towers ! 
How counterpoised, his origin from dust; 
How counterpoised, to du-l hi< sad return ! 
How voided hi-- vast distance from the sk'.ej ! 
How ne;ir he presses on the ^eriph's wing ! 
Which is the seniph 1 which tlie horn of clay ? 
How thi< demonstrates, through tlie thickest cloud 
Of guilt and cliy condensed, the Son of Henven I 
The double -on ; the made, and the re-nv.ide ! 
And shall Heaven's double property be lost? 
Man's double madness only can destroy. 
To in:in the blaeding cross has promi-ed all ; 
The bleeding cro>s has sworn eternal grace ; 
Who g ive his life, what grace shall He deny "? 

ye ! who from this Rock of Ages leap, 
Disdainful, plunging headlong in the deep ! 
What cordial joy, what consolation strong, 
Whatever winds ari-e, or billows roll. 
Our interest in the Master of the storm 1 
Cling there, and in wreck'd nature's ruin smile ; 
While vile apostates tremble in a calm. 

Man ! know thyself. All wisdom centres there ; 
To none man seems ignoble, but to man ; 
Angels that grandeur, men o'erlook, admire : 
How long shall human nature be their book, 
Degenerate mortal ! and unread by thee 1 
The beam dim reason sheds shows wonders there; 
What high contents ! illustrious faculties ! 
But the grand comment, which displays at full 
Our human height, scarce sever'd from divine, 
By Heaven composed, was publish'd on the cross. 

Who looks on that, and sees not in himself 
An awful stranger, a terrestrial god T 
A glorious partner with the Deity 
In that high attribute, immortal life ? 
If a God bleeds, he bleeds not for a worm : 

1 gaze, and, as I gaze, my mounting soul 
Catches strange fire, eternity ! at thee ; 
And drops the world — or rather, more enjoys. 
How changed the face of nature ! how improved ! 



60 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

What seeni'd a chaos shines a glorious world, 

Or, what a world, an Eden ; heighten'd all ! 

It is another scene ! another self I 

And still another, as time rolls along; 

And that a self far more illustrious still. 

Beyond long ages, yet roll d up in shades 

Unpierc'd by bold conjecture's keenest ray, 

What evolutions of surprising fate ! 

How nature opens and receives my soul 

In boundless walks of raptured thought! where gods 

Encounter and embrace me ! what new births 

Of strange adventure, foreign to the sun ; 

Where what now charms, perhaps, whate'er exists, 

Old time and fair creation, are forgot ! 

Is this extravagant ? of man we form 
Extravagant conception, to be just : 
Conception uncontined wants wings to reach hira : 
Beyond its reach, the Godhead only, more. 
He, the great Father ! kindled at one flame 
The world of rationals ; one spirit pour'd 
From spirit's awful fountain ; pour'd Himself 
Through all their souls ; but not in equal stream, 
Profuse, or frugal, of th' inspiring God, 
As his wise plan demanded ; and, when pass'd 
Their various trials, in their various spheres, 
If they continue rational, as made, 
Resorbs them all into Himself again ; 
His throne their centre, and his smile their crown. 

Why doubt we, then, the glorious truth to sing ; 
Though yet unsung, as deem'd, perhaps, too bold 1 
Angels are men of a superior kind ; 
Angels are men in lighter habit clad, 
High o'er celestial mountains wing'd in flight ; 
And men are angels, loaded for an hour. 
Who wade this miry vale, and climb, with pain 
And slippery step, the bottom of the steep. 
Angels their failings, mortals have their praise ; 
While here, of corps ethereal, such enroU'd,. 
And summon'd to the glorious standard soon, 
Which flames eternal crimson through the skies 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. bi 

Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their khi, 
Yet abent ; but not ab^eut from their love. 
MicHALL ha.-5 fought our b;ittiei ; Raphael sung 
Our triumphs ; Gabriel on our errands tiown, 
Sent by the Sovereign : and are these, O man ! 
Thy friends, thy warm allies ? and thou (shame burn 
The cheek to cinder !) rival to the brute ? 

Religion's all. Descending from the skies 
To wretched man, the goddess in lier left 
Holds out this world, and in her right the next : 
Religion ! the sole voucher man is man ; 
Supporter sole of man above himself; 
Even in this night of frailty, change, and death, 
She gives the soul a soul that acts a god. 
Religion ! Providence ! an after state ! 
Here is firm footing ; here is solid rock ; 
This can support us ; all is sea be.>ides ; 
Sinks under us ; bestornis, and then devours. 
His hand the good nmu fastens on the skies, 
And bids earth roll, nor feels her idle whirl. 

As when a wretch, from thick polluted air, 
Darkness, and stench, and suffocating damps. 
And dungeon horrors, by kind fate discharged. 
Climbs some fair eminence, where ether pure 
Surrounds him, and Elysian pro-pects rise ; 
His heart exults, his spirits cast their load ; 
As if new-born, he triumphs in the change : 
So joys the soul, when from inglorious aims. 
And sordid sweets, from feculence and froth 
Of ties terrestrial set at large, she mounts 
To reason's region, her own clement. 
Breathes hopes immortal, and altects the skies. 

Religion ! thou the soul of happiness ; 
And groaning Calvary, of thee ! There shine 
The noblest truths ; there strongest motives sting ; 
There, sacred violence assaults the soul ; 
There, nothing but compulsion is forborne. 
Can love allure us 1 or can terror awe 1 
He weeps ! — the falling drop puts out the sun ; 
He sighs :— the sigh earth's deep foundation shakes. 



ba THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

If, in his love so terrible, what then 

His wrath inflamed 7 his tenderness on fire ; 

Like soft, smooth oil, outblazing other fires ? 

Can prayer, can praise, avert it '? — Thou, my all ! 

My theme ! my inspiration ! and my crown ! 

My strength in age ! my ri.-e in low estate ! 

My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth ! — my world! 

My light in darkness ! and my life in death ! 

My boast through time ! bliss through eternity ! 

Eternity, too short to speak thy praise ! 

Or fathom thy profound of lo\e to man ! 

To man of men the meanest, even to me ; 

My sacrifice ! my God ! — what things are these ! 

What then art thou 1 by what name shall T call 
Knew I the name devout archangels use, [Thee? 
Devout archangels should the name enjoy, 
Byrne unrivall'd; thousands more sublime. 
None half so dear as that which, though unspoke, 
Still glows at heart. Oh how omnipotence 
Is lo.^t in love ! Thou great Philanthropist ! 
Father of angels ! but the friend of man ! 
Like Jacob, fondest of the younger-born ! 
Thou, who didst save him, snatch the smoking brand 
From out the flames, and quench it in thy blood ! 
How art thou pleased, by bounty to distress ! 
To make us groan beneath our gratitude, 
Too big for birth ! to favor and confound ; 
To challenge, and to distance all return ! 
Of lavish love's stupendous heights to soar, 
And leave praise panting in the distant vale ! 
Thy right too great defrauds thee of thy due ; 
And sacrilegious our sublimest song. 
But since the naked will obtains thy smile, 
Beneath this juonument of praise unpaid, 
And future life symphonious to my strain, 
(That noblest hyimi to heaven !) for ever lie 
Entomb'd my fear of death ! and every fear, 
The dread of every evil, but Thy frown. 

Whom see I yonder so demurely smile 1 
Laughter a labor, and might break their rest. 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 63 

Ye quietist?, in homage to the skies ! 

Serene I of soft adilre^s I who mildly make 

An unobtrii?ive tender of your heart-;, 

Abhorring violence I who halt indeed ; 

But, for the ble-sing, wre tie not with Heaven 7 

Think you my song too turbulent T too warm ? 

Are passion*, then, the Pagan* of the soul 1 

Keason alone baptized? alone ordain'd 

To touch things sacred ? Oh, for warmer still ! 

Guilt chills my zeal, and age benumb-; my powers ; 

Oh for an hv.nibler heart and prouder -oiig I 

Tiior, my much injured theme ! with that soft eye 

Which melted o'er doom'd Salein, deign to look 

Compassion to the coldness of my breast, 

And pardon to the winter in my strain. 

O ye cold hearted, frozen formalist-; ! 
On siich a theme 'tis impious to be calm ; 
Passion i< reason, transport temper here. 
Shall Heaven, which gave us ardor, and has shown 
Her own for man so strongly, not di<dain 
What smooth emollients in theohigy, 
Recumbent Airtue's downy dnctor< preach, 
That prose of piety, a lukewarm praise 7 
Rise odors s\\'eet from incense uninflamed 1 
Devotion, when lukewarm, is undevout; 
But when it glows, its heat is struck to heaven: 
To human hearts her golden harp< are strung ; 
High heaven's orche-tra chants Amen to man. 

Hear I, or dream I hear, their di>tant strain, 
Sweet to the soul, and tasting strong of heaven, 
Soft wafted on cele-tial pity's plume, 
Through the vast spaces of the universe, 
To cheer me in this melancholy gloom : 
Oh, when will death, (now stiugless,) like a friend, 
Admit me of their choir 7 Oh, when will death 
This mouldering old partition-wall throw down 7 
Give being-;, one in nature, one abode 7 
O death divine ! that givest us to the skies I 
Great future I glorious patron of the past 
And present ! when shall I thy shrine adore 7 



64 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

From nature's continent, immen ely wide, 

Immensely bless'd, this little i.^le of lile, 

This dark incarcerating colony 

Divides us. Happy day ! that breaks our chain: 

That manumit 5 ; that calls from exile home ; 

That leads to nature's great metropolis, 

And readmits us, through the guardian hand 

Of elder brothers, to our Father's throne ; 

Who hear; our Advocate, and, through his wounds 

Beholding man, allows that tender name. 

'Tis this makes Christian triumph a command ; 

'Tis this njakes joy a duty to the wise : 

'Tis impious in a good man to be sad. 

Seest thou, Lorenzo I where hangs all our hope 1 
Touch'd by the cross, we live ; or, more than die : 
That touch whicli touch'd not angels ; more divine 
Than that which touch'd confusion into form. 
And darkness into glory ; partial touch ! 
Inelfably pre-eminent regard ! 
Sacred to man, and sovereign through the whole 
Long golden chain of miracles whicii hangs 
From heaven through all duration, and supports. 
In one illu-trious and amazing plan, 
Thy welfare. Nature I and thy God's renown ; 
That touch, with charm celestial, heals the soul 
Diseased, drives p;\in from guilt, lights life in death; 
Turns earth to heaven ; to heavenly thrones trans- 
The gha- tly ruins of the mouldering tomb. [forms 

Dost ask me when ? — When He who died returns ; 
Returns, how changed ' Where then the man of woel 
In glory's terrors all the Godhead burns ; 
And all his courts, exhausted by the tide 
Of deities triumphant in his train. 
Leave a stupendous solitude in heaven ; 
Replenish'd soon, repleiiish'd with increase 
Of pomp and multitude ; a radiant band 
Of angels new ; of angels from the tomb. 

Is this by fancy thrown remote J and rise 
Dark doubt-s between the promise and event ? 
I send thee not to volumes for thy cure ; 



THE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 65 

Head Nature ; Nature is a friend to truth : 

Nature is Christian ; preaches to Mankind ! 

And bids dead matter aid us in our creed. 

Hast thou ne'er seen the comet's flaming flight? 

The illustrious stranger, pa-sion, terror sheds 

On gazing nations, fi-om his fiery train, 

Of length enormous ; takes his ample round 

Through depths of ether; coasts unnumber'd worlds, 

Of more than solar glory ; doubles wide 

Heaven's mighty cape ; and then revisits earth, 

From the long travel of a thousand years. 

Thus, at the destined period, shall return 

Hk, once on earth, who bids the comet blaze ; 

And, with Him, all our triumph o'er the tomb. 

Nature is dumb on this imj)ortant point ; 
Or hope precarious in low whisper breathes : 
Faith speaks aloud, distinct; eveif adders hear; 
But turn, and dart into the dark again. 
Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death, 
To break the shock blind nature cannot shun, 
And lands thought smoothly on the farther shore. 
Death's terror is the mountain faith removes; 
That mountain-barrier between man and peace. 
'Tis faith disarms destruction ; and absolves. 
From every clamorous charge, the guiltless tomb. 

Why disbelieve ? Lorknzo ! " Reason bids, 
All sacred reason." — Hold her sacred still; 
Nor shalt thou want a rival in thy flame. 
All sacred reason ! source, and soul, of all 
Demanding praise, on earth, or earth above ! 
My heart is thine : deep in its inmost folds, 
Live thou with life ; live dearer of the two. 
Wear I the blessed cross, by fortune stamp'd 
On passive Nature, before thought was born "? 
My birth's blind bigot ! fired with local zeal I 
No ; reason re-baptized me when adult ; 
Weigh'd true, and false, in her impartial scale : 
My heart became the convert of my head ; 
And made that choice which once was but my fate. 
" On argument ?lon8 mv faith is built :" 



66 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV. 

Reason pursued is faith : and, unpursiied, 
Where proof invijips, 'ti-i reason tlieii no more : 
And such our proof, thut, or our faith is right, 
Or reason lies, and Heaven design'ii it wrong. 
Absolve we this ? Wliat, then, is blasphemy 1 

Fond as we are, and ju4ly fond, of faith, 
Reason, we grant, dein ind-; our first regard ; 
The mother honor'd, as the daughter dear. 
Reason the root ; fair faith is but the flower : 
The fading flower shall die ; but reason lives 
Inunortal, as her Father in the skies. 
When faith is virtue, reason makes it so. 
Wrong not the Cliristian ; think not reason yours ; 
'Tis reason our gre it Master hokU so dear; 
'Tis reason's injured rights his wrath resents ; 
*Tis reason's voice obey'd his glories crown ; 
To give lost reason life. He pour'd his own. 
Believe, and show the reason of a man ; 
Believe, and taste the pleasure of a God ; 
Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb. 
Through reason's wounds alone thy faith can die ; 
Which dying tenfold terror gives to death, 
And dips' in venom his twice mortal sting. 

Learn hence what honors, what loud pasans, due 
To those who push our antidote aside ; 
Those boasted friends to reason, and to man, 
Whose fatal love stabs every joy, and leaves 
Death's terror heighten'd, gnawing an his heart. 
These pompous sons of reason, idolized 
And vilified at once ; of reason dead. 
Then deified, as monarchs were of old ; 
What conduct plants proud laurels on their browl 
While loveof truth through all their camp resounds, 
They draw pride's curtain o'er the noontide ray, 
Spike up their inch of reason, on the point 
Of philosophic wit, called argument ; 
And then, exulting in their taper, cry, 
" Behold the sun !" and, Indian like, adore. 
Talk they of morals ! O thou bleeding Love ! 
Thou maker of new morals to mankind ! 



tUE CHRISTIAN TRIUMPH. 6? 

The grand morality is Inve of Thee. 
As wise as Socrates, if such there were 
(Nor will they bate ol" that sublime r*iown,) 
As wise as Socrates iui»ht justly stand 
The detiiiition of a modern tool. 

A Christian is the highest style of man. 
And is there, who the blessed cross wipes off, 
As a foul blot from his dishonored brow ? 
If angels tremble, 'tis at such a sight: 
The wretch they quit, desponding of their charge 
More struclc with grief, or wonder, who can tell ? 

Ye sold to sense ! ye citi/,ens of earth ! 
(For such alone the Christian banner tiy,) 
Know^ ye how wise your choice, how great your gainl 
Behold the picture of earth's happiest man : 
" He calls his wish, it comes : he sends it back, 
And says, he call'd another ; that arrives. 
Meets the same welcome ; yet he still calls on ; 
Till one calls him, who varies not his call. 
But holds him fist, in chains of darkness bound 
Till nature des, and jnelsment sets him free ; 
A freedom far less welcome than his chain." 

But grant man happy ; grant him happy long ; 
Add to life's hi2he<t prize her latest hour; 
That hour, so lite, is nimble in approach, 
That, like a post, conies on in full career. 
How swift the shuttle dies that weaves thy shroud! 
Where is the fable of thy former years ? 
Thrown down the gulf of time ; as far from thee 
As they had ne'er been thine : the day in hand, 
Like a bird struggling to get loose, is going ; 
Scarce now possess'd, so suddenly 'tis gone ; 
And each swift moment fled is death advanced 
By strides as swift. Eternity is all ! 
And whose eternity ? Who triumphs there 1 
Bathing for ever in the font of bliss 1 
For ever basking in the Deity ! 
Lorenzo ! who ? — Thy conscience shall reply. 

O, give it leave to speak ; 'twill speak ere long, 
Thy leave unask'd : Lorenzo ! hear it now, 



68 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT IV 

While useful its r.dvico, its accent mild. 
By the gre:it edict, the divine decree, 
'Truth is deponted with maa's last hour ; 
An honest hour, and feithful to her trust. 
Truth, eldest daughter of the Deity ; 
Truth, of his council, when he made the worlds : 
Nor less, when he shall judge the worlds he made ; 
Though silent Ijng, and sleeping ne'er so sound, 
Smotlier'd with errors, and oppress'd with toys, 
That Meaven-conimission'd hour no sooner calls, 
But from her cavern in the soul's abyss, 
Like him they fable under JFAna whelm'd, 
The goddess bursts in thunder and in flame ; 
Loudly convinces, and severely pains. 
Dark demons I discharge, and Hydra stings ; 
The keen vibration of bright Truth — is hell : 
Just definition ! though by schools untaught. 
Ye deaf to truth ! peruse this parson'd page. 
And trust, for once, a prophet and a priest ; 
"Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.'* 



THE RELAPSE. 

TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF LITCHFIELD. 



Lorenzo ! to recriminate is just. 
Fondness for fame is avarice of air. 
I grant, the man is vain wlio writes for praise : 
Praise no man e'er deserved, who sought no more. 

As just thy second charge. I grant the muse 
Has often blush'd at Iier degenerate sons, 
Retain'd by sense to plead her filthy cause ; 
To raise the low, to magnify the mean, 
And subtilize the gross into refined : 
As if to magic numbers' powerful charm 
'Twas given, to make a civet of their song 
Obscene, and sweeten ordure to perfume. 
Wit, a true Pagan, deifies the brute. 
And lifts the swine enjoyments from the mire. 

The fact notorious, nor obscure the cause. 
We wear the chains of pleasure and of pride. 
These share the man ; and these distract him too; 
Draw ditTerent ways, and clash in their commands. 
Pride, like an eagle, builds among the stars ; 
But pleasure, lirklike, nests upon the ground. 
Joys shared by brute creation, pride resents ; 
Pleasure embraces : nj in would both enjoy, 
And both at once : a point so hard, how gain ! 
But what can't wit, when stung by strong desire 1 

Wit dares attempt this arduous enterprise. 
Since joys of sense can't rise to reason's taste, 
In subtle sophistry's laborious forge, 
Wit hanuners out a reason new,*that stoops 
To sordid scenes and greets them with applause, 

C9 



70 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

Wit calls the graces the chaste zone to loose ; 

Nor less than a plump god to fill the bowl : 

A thousand phantoms, and a thousand spells, 

A thousand opiates scatters, to delude, 

To fascinate, inebriate, lay asleep. 

And the fool'd mind delightfully confound, [more ; 

Thus that which shock'd the judgment shocks no 

That which gave pride offence no more offends. 

Pleasure and pride, by nature, mortal foes, 

At war eternal, which in man shall reign. 

By wit's address, patch up a fatal peace. 

And hand in hand lead on the rank debauch, 

From rank refined to delicate and gay. 

Art, cursed art ! wipes off the indebted blush 

From nature's cheek, and bronzes every shame. 

Man smiles in ruin, glories in his guilt ; 

And infamy stands candidate for praise. 

All writ by man in favor of the soul, 
These sensual ethics far in bulk transcend. 
The flowers of eloquence,. profusely pour'd 
O'er spotted vice, fill half the letter'd world. 
Can powers of genius exercise their page. 
And consecrate enormities with song ? 

But let not these inexpiable strains 
Condemn the muse that knows her dignity ; 
Nor meanly stop? at time, but holds the world 
As 'tis, in nature's ample field, a point, 
A point in her esteem ; from whence to start 
And run the round of universal space, 
To visit being universal there. 
And being's Source, that utmost flight of mind ! 
Yet spite of this so vast circumference. 
Well knows, hut what is moral, nought is great. 
8ing Syrens only 1 Do not angels sing 1 
There is in poesy a decent pride, 
Which well becomes her when she speaks to prose, 
Her younger sister; haply, not more wise. 

Think'st thou, Lorenzo ! to find pastimes here 1 
No guilty passion blown into a flame, 
No foible flatter'd, dignity disgraced, 



THE RELAPSE. 71 

No fairy field of fiction all on flower, 

No rainbow colors here, or silken tale ; 

But solemn counsels, iniiges of awe. 

Truths, which eternity lets fall on man 

With double weight, through the^e revolving spheres, 

This death-deep silence, and incumbent shade : 

Thoughts such as shall revisit yo'xr last hour ; 

Visit uncall'd, and live when life expires: 

And thy dark pencil, ujidnight! darker still 

In melancholy dipp'd, imbrowns the whole. 

Yet this, even tliis, my laughter-loving friends! 
LoRK.vzo ! and thy brothers of the smile ! 
If what inip;>rts you iiio<t can most engjge. 
Shall steal your ear, and chain you to my song. 
Or if you fail me, know, the wise shall taste 
The truths I sing; the truths I sing shall feel; 
And, feeling, give assent ; and their assent 
Is ample recompense, is more than praise: 
But chiefly thine, O Litchfield ! nor mistake ; 
Think not unintroduced I force my way ; 
Narcissa., not unknown, not unallied. 
By vir'ue or by blood, illustrious youth! 
To thee, from blooming am iranthine bowers, 
Where all the language 11 irmony, descends 
Unc ill'd, and asks adnjittance for the muse ; 
A muse that will not pain thee with thy praise : 
Thy praise she drops, by nobler still inspired. 

O thou, bless'd Spirit: whether the supreme, 
Great antemundane Father! in whose breast 
Embryo creation, unborn being, dwelt, 
And all its various revolutions roll'd 
Present, though future ; prior to themselves ; 
Whose bre ith can blow it into nought again; 
Or, from His throne some delegated power. 
Who, studious of our peace, dost turn the thought 
From vain and vile, to solid and sublime ! 
Unseen thou lead'st me to delicious draughts 
Of inspiration, from a purer stteam. 
And fuller of the god than that which burst 
From famed Casulia : nor is yet allay'd 



72 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V 

My sacred thirst ; though lon» my soul has ranged 
Through pleasing paths of moral and divnie, 
By Thee susttin'd, and lighted by the stars. 

By them best lighted are the paths of thought ; 
Nights are their days, their most illumined hours. 
By day, the soul, o'erlMirne by life's career, 
Stunn'd by the din, and giddy with the glare, 
Reels far from reason, jostled by the throng. 
By day the soul is passive, all her thoughts 
Imposed, precarious, broken ere mature. 
By night, from objects free, from passion cool, 
Thoughts uncontroll'd and unimpress'd, the births 
Of pure election, arbitrary ran'ge, 
Not to the limits of one world confined ; 
But from ethereal travels light on earth, 
As voyagers drop anchor, for repoxe. 

Let Indians, and the gay, like Indians, fond 
Of feather'd fopperies, the sun adore : 
Darkness has more divinity for n)e ; 
It strikes thought inward ; it drives back the soul 
To settle on herself, our point supreme! 
There lies our theatre ; there sits our judge. 
Darkness the curtain drops o'er life's dull scene 
'Tis the kind hand of Providence stretch'd out 
'Tvvixt man and vanity ; 'tis reason's reign. 
And virtue's too : these tutelary shades 
Are man's asylum from the tainted throngs. 
Night is the good man's friend and guardian too; 
It no less rescues virtue than inspires. 

Virtue, for ever frail, as fair, below, 
Her tender nature suffers in the crowd, 
Nor touches on the world without a stain : 
The world's infectious ; i'ew bring back at eve, 
Immaculate, the manners of the morn. 
Something we thought is blotted ; we resolved, 
Is shaken ; we renounced, returns again. 
Each salutation may slide in a sin 
Unthought before, or ti.x a former flaw. 
Nor is it strange : light, motion, concourse, noise, 
All scatter us abroad ; thought, outward bound. 



THE REI-APSE. 73 

Neglectful of her home affiiirs, flies off 
In t'lune and dissip iiinn, quits her charge, 
And leaves the hreast unguarded to the foe. 

Pre-ent example gets within our guard, 
And acts with doul)le force hy few repell'd 
Anibition fires ambition ; love of gain 
Strikes like a pestilence, from breast to breast. 
Riot, pride, pertidy, blue vapours breathe; 
And inhumanity is caught from man, 
From smiling man. A slight, a single glance, 
And shot at random, often has brought home 
A sudden fever to the throbbing heart, 
Of envy, rancour, or impure desire. 
We see, we hear, with peril ; safety dwells 
Remote from nmltitude ; the world's a school 
Of wrong, and what proficients swarm around 
We nmst or imitate or disapprove ; 
Must list as their accomplices or foes : 
That stains our innocence ; this wounds our peace. 
From nature's birth, hence, wisdom has been smit, 
With sweet recess, and langui^h'd for the shade. 

This sacred shade and solitude, what is itl 
'Tis the felt pre-ence of the Deity. 
Few are the faults we flatter when alone. 
Vice sinks in her allurements, as ungilt. 
And looks, like other objects, black by night. 
By night, an atheist half believes a God. 

Night is fair virtue's immemorial friend : 
The conscious moon, through every distant age, 
Has held a lamp to wi<dom, and let fall 
On contemplation's eye her purging ray. 
The famed Athenian, he who woo'd from heaven 
Philosophy the fair, to dwell with men. 
And form their manners, not inflame their pride ; 
While o'er his head as fearful to molest 
His laboring mind, the stars in silence slide, 
And seem all gazing on their future guest. 
See him soliciting his ardent suit 
In private audience : all the livelong night, 
Rigid in thought, and motionless he stands; 



74 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

Nor quits his theme or posture till the sun 

(Rude drunkard, rising rosy from the main!) 

Disturbs his nobler intellectual beam, 

And gives him to the tumult of the world. ["^^'^ste 

Hail, precious moments .' stolen from the black 
Of murder'd time ! auspicious midnight ! hail ! 
The world excluded, every passion hush'd, 
And open'd a calm intercourse with heaven, 
Here the soul sits in council ; ponders past, 
Predestines future action ; sees, not feels, 
Tumultuous life, and reasons with the storm; 
All her lies answers, and thinks down her charms 

What a\^'ful joy ! what mental liberty ! 
I am not pent in darkness ; rather say 
(If not too bold,) in darkness I'm embower'd. 
Delightful gloom ! the clustering thoughts around 
Spontaneous rise, and blossom in the shade; 
But droop by day, and sicken in the sun. 
Thought borrows light el-ewhere ; from that first fire, 
Fountain of animation I whence descends 
Urania, my celestial guest ! who deigns 
Nightly to vi-;it jue, so mean ; and now, 
Conscious how needful discipline to man. 
From pleasing dalliance with the charms of night, 
My wandering thought recalls to what excites 
Far other beat of heart; Narcissa's tomb ! 

Or is it feeble nature calls me back. 
And breaks my spirit into grief again ? 
Is it a Stygian vapor in my blood 1 
A cold, slow puddle creeping through my veins'? 
Or is it thus with all men 7— Thus with all. 
What are we 1 How unequal ! now we soar, 
And now we sink ; to be the same transcends 
Our present prowess. Dearly pays the soul 
For lodging ill ; too dearly rents her clay. 
Keason, a baffled counsellor! but adds 
The hlu^h of weakness to the bane of woe. 
The noblest spirit fighting her hard fate. 
In this dump, dusky region, charged with storma, 
But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly ; 



THE RELAPSE. 7S 

Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her fall. 
Our utmost strengtii, when down, to rise again ; 
And not to yield, though beaten, all our praise. 

'Tis vain to seek in men tor more than uian. 
Though proud in promise, big in previous thought, 
Experience damps our triumph. 1, who late, 
Emerging from the shadows of the grave, 
Where grief detain'd me prisoner, mounting high, 
Threw wide the gates of everlasting day, 
And caird mankind to glory, shook oil" pain, 
Mortality shook ofl", in ether pure. 
And struck the stars ; now feel my spirits fail ; 
They drop me from the zenith ; down I rush, 
Like him whom fable fledged with waxen wings. 
In sorrow drown'd — but not in sorrow lost. 
How wretdied is the man who never mourn'd ! 
I dive for precious pearl in sorrow's stream : 
Not so the thoughtless man that only grieves ; 
Takes all the torment and rejects the gain, 
(Inestimable gain 1) and give^ heaven leave 
To make him but more wretched, not more wise. 

If wisdom is our les^on, (and what else 
Ennobles man ? what el-e have angels learn'd ^) 
Grief I more proficients in thy school are niade 
Thau genius or proud learning e'er could boast 
Voracious learning, often overled, 
Digests not into sen>e her motley meal. 
This bookca- e, with dark booty almost burst, 
This forager on others' wisdom, leaves 
Her native form, her reason, quite untiU'd. 
With mix'd manure she surfe.ts the rank soil, 
Dung'd, but not dres->'d ; and, rich to beggary, 
A pomp untiuueable of weeds prevails. 
Her servant's wealth encuinber'd wisdom mourns. 

And what says genius ? " L,el the dull be wise." 
Genius, too hard for right, can prove it wrong; 
And love to boast, where blu-h men less inspired. 
It pleads exemption from the lfit^vsof sense ; 
Considers reason as a leveller ; 
And scorns to share a blessing with the crowd. 



76 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

That wise it could be, thinks an ample claim 
To glory, and to pleasure gives the rest. 
Crassus but sleeps, Ardelio is undone. 
Wisdom less shudders at a fool than wit. 

But wisdom snjiles when humbled mortals weep. 
When sorrow wounds the breast.as ploughs the glebe, 
And hearts obdurate feel her softening shower? 
Her seed celestial, then, glad wisdom sows : 
Her golden harvest triumphs in the soil. 
If so, Narcissa ! welcome my relapse ; 
I'll raise a tax on my calamity, 
And reap rich compensation from my pain. 
I'll range the plenteous intellectual held ; 
And gather every thought of sovereign power 
To chase the moral miiladies of man: 
Thoughts which may bear transplanting to the skies, 
Though natives of this coar-e penurious soil ; 
Nor wholly wither there, where seraphs sing, 
Hefined, exalted, not annuU'd, in heaven. 
Reason, the sun that gives them birth, the same 
In either clime, though niore illu<trious there. 
These choicely cuU'd, and elegantly ranged, 
Shall form a garland for Narhssa's tomb; 
And, peradventure, of no fading flowers. 

Say, on what themes shall puzzled choice descend, 
"The importance of contemplating the tomb ! 
Why men decline it ; suici<!e's foul birth ; 
The various kind of grief; the faults of age ; 
And death's dread character — invite uiy song." 

And fir.'t, the import:ince of our end survey'd. 
Friends counsel quick disuiission of our grief: 
Mistaken kindness ! our hearts heal too soon. 
Are they more kind than he who struck the blowl 
Who bid it do hi-; errand in our hearts. 
And banish peace, till nobler guests arrive, 
And bring it back a true and endless peace 1 
Calamities are friends : as glaring day 
Of these unnnmber'd lustres robs our sight; 
Prosperity, piits out unnumber'd thoughts 
Of import high, and light divine, to mau, 



THE RfitAPSE. 77 

The man how bless'd, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 
(Scenes apt to thrust between us and ourselves !) 
Is led by choice to take his favorite walk, 
Beneath death's gloomy, silent, cypress shades, 
Unpierced by vanity's fantastic ray ; 
To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 
Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! 
Lorenzo I read with me Narcissa's stone ; 
(Js'arcissa was thy favorite ;) let us read 
Her moral stone ; few doctors preach so well ; 
Few orators so tenderly can touch 
The feeling heart. What pathos in the date ! 
Apt words can strike ; and yet in them we see 
Faint images of what we here enjoy. 
What cau^e have we to build on length of life 1 
Temptations seize when fear is laid asleep; 
And ill foreboded is our strongest guard. 

See, from her tomb, as from an humble shrine> 
Truth, radiant goddess ! sallies on my soul, 
And puts delusion's dusky train to liight ; 
Dispels the mists our sultry passions raise 
From objects low, terrestrial, and obscene; 
And shows the real estimate of things ; 
Which no man, unafflicted, ever saw; 
Pulls off the veil from virtue's rising charms ; 
Detects temptation in a thousand lies. 
Truth bids me look on men as autumn leaves ; 
And all they bleed for as the summer's dust, 
Driven by the whirlwind : lighted by her beams, 
I widen my horizon, gain new powers. 
See things invisible, lieel things remote. 
Am present with futurities ; think nought 
To man so foreign as the joys possess'd ; 
Nought so nmch his as those beyond the grave. 

No folly keeps its color in her sight : 
Pale worldly wisdom loses all her charms ; 
In pompous promise for her schemes profound. 
If future fate she plans 'tis all in leaves, 
Like Sibyl, unsubstantial, fleeting bliss ! 
At thefirst blast it vanishes in air. 



78 . THE COMPLAINT. NlGHt Vi 

Not SO, celestial. Wouldst thou know, Lorenzo 1 
How differ worldly wisdom, and divine 1 
Just as the waning and the waxing moon. 
More empty worldly wisdom every day ; 
And every day more fair her rival shines. 
When later, there's less time to play the fool. 
Soon our whole term for wisdom is expired, 
(Thou know'stshe calls no council in the grave ;) 
And everlasting fool is writ in tire, 
Or real wisdom watts us to the skies. 

As worldly schemes resemble Sihyl's leaves, 
The good ntan's days to Sibyl's books compare, 
(In ancient story read, thou know'st the tale,) 
In price still rising as in numl)er less, 
Inestimable (juite his tinal hour. 
For that who thrones can offer, offer thrones ; 
Insolvent worlJs the purchase cannot i)ay. 
'"Oh, let me die his death !" all nature cries. 
"Then live his life." — All nature falters there. 
GUI' great physician daily to consult, 
To commune with the grave our only cure. 

What grave prescribes the best ? — A friend's : and 
From a friend's grave how soon we disengage I [yet, 
Even to the dearest, as his marble, cold. 
Why are friends ravished from us 1 'Tis to bind, 
By soft affection's ties, on human hearts, 
The thought of death, which reason, too supine 
Ormiseniploy'd, so rarely fastens there. 
Nor reason nor affection, no, nor both 
Combined, can break the witchcrafts of the world. 
Behold, the inexorable hour at hand ! 
Behold, the inexorable hour forgot ! 
And to forget it the chief aim of life ; 
Though well to ponder it is life's chief end. 

Is death, that ever threatening, ne'er remote, 
That all important, and that only sure, 
(Come when he will,) an unexpected guest? 
Nay, though invited by the loU(dj||t calls 
Of blind imprudence, unexpecteffYtill ; 
Though numerous messengers are sent before, 



THE RELAPSE. tS 

To warn his great arrival. What the cause, 
The wondrous cause of this mysterious ill "? 
All heaven looks down a.>tonish'd at the sight. 

Is it, tiiat life has sown her joys so thick, 
We can't thrust in a single care between 1 
Is it, that life has such a swarm of cares, 
The thought of death can't enter for the throng 1 
Js it, that time steals on with downy feet. 
Nor. wakes indulgence from her golden dream 1 
To-day is so like yesterday, it cheats ; 
We take the lying sister for the same. 
Life glides away, Lokenzo ! like a brook; 
For ever changing uujjerceived the change. 
In the same brook none ever bathed him twice : 
To the same life none ever twice awoke. 
We call the brook the same ; the same we think 
(Jur life, though still more rapid in its flow ; 
JNor mark the much irrevocably Inpsed, 
And mingled with the sea. (Jr shall we say 
(Retaining still the brook to bear us on,) 
That life is like a vessel on the stream .' 
In life enibark'd, we smoothly down the tide 
Of time de.-cend, but not on time intent; 
Amu-ed, unconscious of the gliding wave ; 
Till on a sudden we perceive a shock : 
We start, awake, look out, what see we there 1 
Our brittle bark is burst on Charon's shore. 

Is this the cause death tiies all human thought t 
Or is it judgment by the will struck blind, 
That domineering mistress of the soul ! 
Like him so strong, by Dalilah the fair 7 
Or is it fear turns startled reason back, 
From looking down a precipice so steep 1 
'Tis dreadful ; and the dread is wisely placed, 
By nature conscious of the make of man. 
A dreadful friend it is, a terror kind, 
A flaming sword to guard the tree of life. 
By that unawed, in life's most smiling hour, 
The good man would repine ; would sufler joys, 
And burn impatient for his promised skies. 



60 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

The hadi on each piiiictilioui pique of pride, 
Or gloom of humor, would give rage the reia ; 
Bound o'er the barrier, rush into the dtirlv, 
And mar the schemes of Providence below. 

What groan was that, Lorenzo 1 — Furies ! rise ; 
And drown in your less execrable yell, 
Britannia's shame. There took her gloomy flight, 
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul. 
Blasted from hell, with horrid lust of death. 
Thy friend, the brave, the gallant Altamont, 
So call'd, so thought — and then he fled the lield. 
Less base the fear of death than fear of life. 
O Britain, infamous for suicide ! 
An island in thy manners ! far disjoin'd 
From the whole world of rationals beside ! 
In ami)ient waves plunge thy polluted head, 
Wash the dire stain, nor shock the continent. 

But thou be shock'd, while I detect the cause 
Of self-assault, expose the monster's birth. 
And bid abhorrence hiss it round the world. 
Blame not thy clime, nor chide the distant sun ; 
The sun is innocent, thy clime absolved: 
Immoral climes kind nature never made. 
The cause I sing, in Eden might prevail ; 
And proves, it is thy folly, not thy fate. 

The soul of man, (let man in homage bow, 
Who names his soul,) a native of the skies ! 
High-born, and free, her freedom should maintain, 
Unsold, unmortgaged for earth's little bribes. 
Th' illustrious stranger, in this foreign land, 
Like strangers, jealous of her dignity. 
Studious of home, and ardent to return, 
Of earth suspicious, earth's enchanted cup 
With cool reserve light touching, should indulge 
On immortality her godlike taste ; [there. 

There take large draughts ; make her chief banquet 

But some reject this sustenance divine ; 
To beggarly vile appetites descend ; 
Ask alms of earth, for guests that came from heaven; 
Sink into slaves ; and sell, for present hire, 



THK RELAPSE. 81 

Their rich reversion, and (what shares its fate) 
Their native freedom, to the prince who sways 
This nether world. And wlien his payments fail, 
When his foul basket gorges them no more, 
Or their pall'd palates ioaihe tlie basliet full ; 
Are instantly, with wild demoniac rage. 
For breaking all the chains of Providence, 
And bursting their confinement ; though fast barr'd 
By laws divine and humui : guarded strong 
With horrors doubled to defend the pass, 
The blackest nature or dire guilt can raise ; 
And moated round with fathomless destruction, 
Sure to receive, and whelm them in their fall. 

Such, Uritons ! is the cause, to you unknown, 
Or worse, o'erlook'd ; o'erlook'd by magistrates, 
Thus criminals themselves. 1 grant the deed 
Is madness ; but the madness of the heart. 
And what is that ? Our utmost bound of guilt 
A sensual, unreflecting life is big 
With monstrous births ; and suicide, to crown 
The black infernal brood. The bold to break 
Heaven's law supreme, and desperately rush, 
Through sacred nature's murder, on their own, 
Because they never think of death, they die. 
'Tis equally man's duty, glory, gain, 
At once to shun, and meditate his end. 

When by tlie bed of languishment we sit, 
(The seat of wisdom I if our choice, not fate,) 
Or, o'er our dying friend, in anguish hang. 
Wipe the cold dew, or stay the sinking head, 
Number their moments, and, in every clock, 
Start at the voice of an eternity ; 
See the dim lamp of life just feebly lift 
An agonizing beam, at us to gaze. 
Then sink again, and quiver into death, 
That most pathetic herald of oiu own ; 
How read we such sad scenes 1 as .sent to man 
In perfect ven'jeance ? No ; in pity sent, 
To melt him down, like wax, and' then impress, 
Indelible, death's image on his heart ; 
6 



82 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

Bleeding for others, trembling for himself. 

We bleed, we tremble, we forget, we smile. 

The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry. 

Our quick returning folly cancels all ; 

As the tide rushing riizes what is writ 

In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore. 

Lorenzo ! hast thou ever weigh'd a sigh 1 
Or studied the philosophy of tears 1 
(A science, yet unlectured in our schools !) 
Hast thou descended deep into the breast, 
And seen their source ? [f not, de>cend with me, 
And trace these briny riv'lets to their springs. 

Our funeral tears from different causes rise, 
As if from separate cisterns in the soul. 
Of various kinds they flow. From tender hearts, 
By soft contagion call'd, some bur-tat once, 
And stream obsequious to the leading eye. 
Some ask more time, by curious art distill'd. 
Some hearts, in secret hard, unapt to melt, 
Struck by the magic of the public eye, 
Like MosEs' smitten rock, gush out amain. 
Some weep to share the fame of the deceased, 
So high in merit, and to them so dear : 
They dwell on praises which they think they share; 
And thus, without a blush, conunend themselves. 
Some mourn, in proof that something they could love: 
They weep not to relieve their grief, but show. 
Some weep in perfect justice to the dead, 
As conscious all their love is in arrear. 
Some mischievously weep, not unapprized, 
Tears, sometimes, aid the conquest of an eye. 
With what address the soft Ephesians draw 
Their sable net-work o'er entangled hearts ! 
As seen through crystal, how their roses glow, 
While liquid pearl runs trinkliiig down their cheek I 
Of hers not prouder Egypt's wanton queen, 
Carousing gems, lierself dissolved in love. 
Some weep at death, abstracted from the dead, 
And celebrate, like Charles, their own decease. 
By kind construction some are deem'd to weep, 



THE RELAPSE. 83 

Because a decent veil conceals their joy. 

S(inie weep in earnest, and yet weep in vain 
As deep in indiscretion as in woe. 
Passion, blind passion '. inipotently pours 
Tears, that deserve more tears ; while reason sleeps; 
Or gazes like an idiot, unconcern'd ; 
Nor comprehends the meaning of the storm ; 
Knows not it speaks to her, and her alone. 
Irrationals all sorrow are beneath, 
That noble gift ! that privilege of man ! 
From sorrow's pang, the birth of endless joy. 
But theSe are barren of that birth divine : 
They weep impetuous as the summer storm, 
And full as short ! The cruel grief soon tamed, 
They make a pastime of the stingless tale ; 
Far as the deep-resounding knell, they spread 
The dreadful news, and hardly feel it more. 
No grain of wisdom pays them for their woe. 

Half round the globe, the tears pump'd up by death, 
Are spent in watering vanities of life ; 
In making folly flourish still more fair. 
When the sick soul, her wonted stay withdrawn. 
Reclines on earth, and sorrows in the dust ; 
Instead of learning, there, her true support, 
Though there thrown down her true support to learn, 
Without heaven's aid, impatient to be bless'd, 
She crawls to the next shrub, or bramble vile, 
Though from the stately cedar's arms she fell ; 
With stale, forsworn embraces, clings anew, 
The stranger weds, and blossoms, as before. 
In all the fruitless fopperies of life : 
Presents her weed, well fancied, at the ball, 
And raffles for the death's-head on the ring. 

So wept AuRELiA, till the destined youth 
Stepp'd in, with his receipt for making smiles, 
And blanching sables into bridal bloom. 
So wept FjORenzo fair Clarissa's fate ; 
Who gave that angel boy, on whom he dotes ; 
And died to give him, orphan'd in his birth ! 
Not such, Narcissa, my distress for thee. 



84 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V 

I'll make an altar of thy sacred tomb, 

To sacrifice to wisdom. What wast thou ? 

" Young, gay, and fortunate !" Each yield? a theme 

I'll dwell on each, to shun thought more severe ; 

(Heaven knows I labor with severer still !) 

I'll dwell on each, and quite exhaust thy death, 

A soul without reflection, like a pile 

Without inhabitant, to ruin runs. 

And, first, thy youth. What says it to grey hairs 1 
Narcissa, I'm become thy pupil now — 
Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, 
She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven. 
Time on this head has snow'd ; yet still 'tis borne 
Aloft ; nor thinks but on another's grave. 
Cover'd with shame I speak it, age severe 
Old worn-out vice set^ down for virtue fair; 
With graceless gravity chastising youth. 
That youth chastised surpassing in a fault, 
Father of all, forgetfulness of death : 
As if, like objects pressing on the sight, 
Death had advanced too near us to be seen : 
Or, that life's loan, time rlpen'd into right, 
And men might plead prescription from the grave ; 
Deathless, from repetition of reprieve. 
Deathless "? far from it ! such are dead already ; 
Their hearts are buried, and the world their grave. 
Tell me, some god ! my guardian angel ! tell. 
What thus infatuates 1 what enchantment plants 
The phantom of an age 'twixt us and death, 
Alreudy at the door ? He knocks, we hear. 
And yet we will not hear. What mail defends 
Our untoiich'd hearts ? What miracle turns off 
The pointed thought, which from a thousand quivers 
Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd 1 
We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs 
Around us filling; wounded oft ourselves ; 
Though bleeding with our wounds inunortal still! 
We see time's furrows on another's brow. 
And death, intrench'd, preparing his assault; 
How few themselves in that just mirror, see ! 



THE RELAPSE. 85 

Or, seeing, draw their inference as strong ! 
There death is certain ; doubtful here : he must, 
And soon : we may, within an age, expire, [green ; 
Though grey our heads our thoughts and aims are 
Like d,iiu:iged clocks, whose hand and bell dissent ; 
Folly singi six, while nature points at twelve. 

Absurd longevity I More, mure, it cries ; 
More life, more wealth, more trash of every kind. 
And wherefore mid for more, when relish fails 1 
Object, and appetite, must club for joy : 
Shall folly labor hard to mend the bow, 
B iuble<, I mean, that strike us from without, 
While nature is relaxing every string ? 
Ask thought for joy ; grow rich, and hoard within. 
Think you the soul, when this life's rattles cease, 
Has notliing of more m.inly to succeed 1 
Contract the taste inuuortai ; learn, even now, 
To relish v.hat alone subsists hereafter: 
Divine, or none, henceforth your joys for ever. 
Of age the glory is, to wi -h to die. 
That wi-h is praise, and promise ; it applauds 
Past life, and promises our future bliss. 
What weakness see not children in thek sires 1 
Grand-climacteric il absurdities ! 
Grey-hair d authority, to faults of youth, 
How shocking ! It m ikes folly thrice a fool : 
And our first childhood might our last despise. 
Peace and esteem is all that age can hope. 
Nothing but wisdom gives the first ; the last, 
Nothing, but the repute of being wise. 
Folly bars both ; our age is quite undone. 

What folly can be ranker 1 Like our shadows. 
Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines. 
No wish should loiter, then, this side the grave. 
Our hearts should leave the world, before the knell 
Calls for our carcasses to mend the soil. 
Enough to live in tempest, die in port; 
Age should fly concour-e, cover in retreat 
Defects of judgment, and the will subdue ; 
Walk thoughtful on the silent solemn shore 



86 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon ; 
And put good works on board ; and wait the wind 
That shortly blows us into worlds unknown : 
If unconsidered too, a dreadful scene ! 

All should be prophets to themselves ; foresee 
Their future fate ; their future f;ite foretaste ; 
This art would waste the bitterness of death. 
The thought of death alone the fear destroys. 
A disaffection to that precious thought 
Is more than midnight darkness on the soul, 
Which sleeps beneath it, on a precipice, 
Puff'd off by the first bla-<t, and lost for ever. 

Dost ask, Lorenzo, why so warmly press'd, 
By repetition himmer'd on thine ear. 
The tliought of death 1 that thought is the machine, 
The grand ninchine ! that heaves us from the dust, 
And rears us into men. That thought plied home, 
Will soon reduce the ghastly precipice 
O'erhanging hell, will soften the descent, 
And gently slope our passage to the grave ; 
How warmly to be wish'd ! what heart of flesh 
Would trifle with tremendous 1 dare extremes 1 
Yawn o'er the fate of infinite 1 What hand. 
Beyond the blackest brand of censure bold, 
(To speak a language too well known to thee,) 
Would at a moment give its all to chance, 
And stamp the die for an eternity 1 

Aid me, Narcissa ! aid me to keep pace 
With destiny ; and ere her scissors cut 
My thread of life, to break this tougher thread 
Of moral death, that ties me to the world. 
Sting thou my slumbering reason to send forth 
A thought of observation on the foe ; 
To sally and survey ; the rapid march 
Of his ten thousand messengers to man ; 
Who JEHU-Iike, behind him turns them all. 
All accident apart, by nature sign'd, 
My warrant is gone out, though dormant yet : 
Perhaps behind one moment lurks my fate. 

Must I then forward only look for death ■? 



THE RELAPSE. 87 

Backward I turn mine eye, and find him there. 
Man is a self-survivor every year. 
Man, like a stream, is in perpetual flow. 
Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey. 
My youth, my noontide, his ; my yesterday ; 
The bola invader shares the present hour. 
Each moment on the former shuts the grave. 
While man is growin<r, life is in decrease ; 
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. 
Our birth is nothing but our de ith begun ; 
As tapers waste that instant they take fire. 
Shall we theafear, lest that should come to pass, 
Which comes to pass each moment of our lives 1 
If fear we must, let that death turn us pale 
Which nmrders strength and ardor; what remains 
Should rather call on death than dread his call. 
Ye partners of my fault, and my decline I 
Thoughtless of death but when your ne ghbor's knell 
(Rude visitant !) knocks hard at your dull sense, 
And with its thunder scarce obtains your ear ! 
Be death your theme in every place and hour; 
Nor longer want, ye monumental sires. 
A brother tomb to tell you you shall die. 
That death you dread "(so great is nature's skill !) 
Know you shall court before you sh ill enjoy. 

But you are learn'd ; in volumes deep you sit ; 
In wisdom shallow. Pompous ignorance 1 
Would you be still more learned than the learn'd t 
Learn well to know how nuich need not be known, 
And what that knowledge which impairs your sense. 
Our needful knowledge, like our needful food, 
Unhedged, lies open in life's conuuon field: 
And bids all welcome to the vital feast. 
You scorn what lies before you in the page 
Of nature and experience, moral truth ; 
Of indispensable, eternal fruit; 
Fruit, on which mortals feeding turn to gods ; 
And dive in science for di-tinguished names, 
Dishonest fomentation of your pride ; 
Sinking in virtue, as you rise in fame. 



88 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

Your learning, like the lunar beam, affords 
Light, but not heat ; it leaves you undevout, 
Frozen at heart, while speculation shines. 
Awake, ye curious indigators ! fond 
Of knowing all, but what avails you known. 
If you would learn death's character, attend : 
All casts of conduct, all degrees of health, 
All dyes of fortune, and all dates of age, 
Together shook in his impartial urn, 
Come forth at random ; or, if choice is made, 
The choice is quite sarcastic, and insults 
All bold conjecture and fond hopes of man. 
What countless multitudes not only leave, 
But deeply disappoint us, by their deaths ! 
Though great our sorrow, greater our surprise. 

Like other tyrants, death delights to smite 
What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of power, 
And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme. 
To bid the wretch survive the fortunate : 
The feeble wrap the athletic in his shroud ; 4 

And weeping fathers build their children's tomb : 
Me thine, Narcissa ! — What, though short thy datel 
Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures. 
That life is long which answers life's great end. 
The time that bears no fruit deserves no name ; 
The man of wisdom is the man of years. 
In hoary youth Methusalkms may die ; 
Oh, how misdated on their flattering tombs ! 

Narcissa's youth hath lectured me thus far. 
And can her gaiety give counsel too 1 
That, like the Jews' famed oracle of gems. 
Sparkles instruction ; such as throws new light. 
And opens more the character of death ; 
111 known to thee, Lorenzo ! This thy vaunt: 
" Give death his due, the wretched, and the old ; 
E'en let him sweep his rubbish to the grave : 
Let him not violate kind nature's laws. 
But own man born to live, as well as die." 
Wretched and old thou givest him ; young and gay 
H6 takes ; and plunder is a tyrant's joy. 



THE RELAPSE. Oy 

Whnt if I prove, " 'I'lie furtliest from the fear, 
Are often iieare<t to the sin ke, of fate ]" 

All. more tlian comiiioii, menaces an end. 
A bi;i/:e hetokens brevity of life ; 
As if hrifilit embers sliould emit a flame, 
Glad spirits sjjarkied from ^'ARr•IssA's eye. 
And m tde youth younger, and taught life to live. 
As nature's opposites wage endless war, 
For this otfence, as treason to the deep 
Inviolable stupor of his reign. 
Where lust and turbulent ambition sleep, 
Death took swift vengeince. As he liie detests, 
More life is still more odious ; and, reduced 
By conquest, aggrandizes more his power. 
But wiierefore aggrandized ? By Heaven's decree, 
To plant the soul on her eternal'guard, 
In awful expectation of our end. 
Thus runs death s dread commission : " Strike, but so 
As most aiarn»s the living by the dead." 
Hence stratagem delights him, and surprise, 
And cruel sport with man's securities. 
Not simple conquest, triumph is his aim ; [most. 

And, where least fear'd their conquest Iriumplis 
This proves my bold assertion not too bold. 

What are his arts to lay our fears asleep 1 
Tiberian arts his purposes wrap up 
In deep dissimulation's darkest night. 
Like |)rinces unconfess'd in foreign courts, 
W^lio travel under cover, death assumes 
The name and look of life, and dwells among us. 
He takes all shapes that serve his black designs: 
Though master of a wider empire far 
Than that o'er which the Roman eagle flew : 
Like iNero, he's a tiddler, charioteer, 
Or drive- his pheaton in female guise ; 
Quite unsuspected, till, the wheel beneath, 
His di<array'd oblation he devours. 

He most alfects the form least like himself, 
His slender self. Hence burly corpulence 
Is his familiar wear, and sleek disguise. 



yO THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

Behind the rosy bloom lie loves to lurk, 

Or ambush in a sn)ile, or, wanton, dive, 

In dimples deep ; love's eddies, which draw in 

Unwary hearts, and sink them in despair. 

Such on Narcissa's couch he loiter'd long 

Unknown ; and, when detected, still was seen 

To smile : such peace has innocence in death ! 

Most happy they whi)m least his arts deceive I 
One eye on death, and one full fi.v'd on heaven, 
Becomes a mortal and immortal man. 
Long on his wiles a piqued and jealous spy, 
I've seen, or dream'd 1 saw, the tyrant dress ; 
Lay by his horrors, and put on his smiles. 
Say muse, for thou rememLier'st, call it back. 
And show Lorenzo tlie surprising scene ; 
If 'twas a dream, his genius c;in explain. 

'Twas in a circle of the gay I stood. 
Death would have enter'd ; nature push'd him back: 
Supported by a doctor of renown, 
His point he gain'd ; then artfully dismiss'd 
The sage ; for death design'd to be conceal'd. 
He gave an old vivacious usurer 
His meagre aspect, and his naked bones ; 
In gratitude for plumping up his prey, 
A pamper'd si)eadtiirift ; whose tiintastic air, 
Well fashion'd figure, and cockaded brow, 
He took in change, and underneath the pride 
Of costly linen tuck'd his (ilthy shroud. 
His crooked bow he straighten'd to a cane ; 
And hid his deadly shafts in Myra's eye. 

The dreadful masquerader, thus equipp'd, 
Out sallies on adventures. Ask you where 1 
Where is he not ? For his peculiar haunts. 
Let this suftice ; sure as night follows day, 
Death treads in pleasure's footsteps round the world, 
When pleasure treads the paths which reason shuns. 
When, against reason riot shuts the door, 
And gaiety supplies the place of sense. 
Then, foremost at the banquet, and the ball, 
Death leads the dance, or stamps the deadly die ; 



THE RELAPSE. 91 

Nor ever fails the midnight bowl to crown, 
Gaily carousing to his gay compeers ; 
Inly he laughs to see them laugh at him, 
As absent far: and when the revel burns, 
When fear is banish'd, and triumphant thought, 
Calling for all the joys beneath the moon, 
Against him turns the key, and bids him sup 
With their progenitors — he drops his mask ; 
Frowns out at full ; they start, despair, expire. 
Scarce with more sudden terror and surprise. 
From his black mask of nitre, touch'd by fire. 
He bursts, expands, roars, blazes, and devours. 
And is not this triumphant treachery. 
And more than simple conquest, in the fiend 1 

And now, Lorenzo, dost thou wrap thy soul 
In soft security, because unknown 
W^hich moment is commission'd to destroy 1 
In death's uncertainty thy danger lies. 
Is death uncertain ? Therefore thou be fixed ; 
Fix'd as a sentinel, all eye, all ear. 
All expectation of the coming foe. 
Rouse, stand in arms, nor lean against thy spear ; 
Lest slumber steal one moment o'er thy soul. 
And fate surprise thee nodding. Watch, be strong ! 
Thus give each day the merit and renown 
Of dying well ; though doomed but once to die. 
Nor let life's period, hidden, (as from most,) 
Hide too from thee the precious u^e of life. 

Early, not sudden, was JVarciss.4.'s fate. 
Soon, not surprising, death his visit paid. 
Her thought went forth to meet him on his way. 
Nor gaiety forgot it was to die : 
Though fortune too, (our third and final theme,) 
As an accomplice, play'd her gaudy plumes, 
And every glittering gewgaw, on her sight. 
To dazzle and debauch it from its mark. 
Death's dreadful advent is the mark of man, 
And every thought that misses it is blind. 
Fortune, with youth and gaiety, conspired 
To weave a triple wreath of happiness 



yy THE COMPLAINT. NIGUX V. 

(If happiness on earth) to crown her brow : [shield ? 

And could death charge through such a shining 

That shining shield invites the tyrant's spear, 

As if to dan)p our elevated aims, 

And strongly preach humility to man. 

O how portentous is prosperity ; 

How, comet-like, it threatens while it shines ! 

Few years but yield us i)roofs of death's ambition 

To cull his victim 5 from the fairest fold. 

And sheathe his shafts in all the pride of life. 

When Hooded with abundance, purpled o'er 

Witii recent honors, bloomed with every bliss, 

Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 

The gaudy centre of the puhlic eye ; 

When fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, 

Snatch'd from the covert of an humble state, 

How often have 1 seen him dropp'd at once. 

Our morning's envy ! and our evening's sigh \ 

As if iter bounties were the signal given, 

Tlie tlowery wreatii to mark the sacrifice, 

And call death's arrows on the destined prey. 

High fortune seems in cruel league with fate. 
Ask you, for what ? To give his war on man 
The deeper dread, and more illustrious spoil ; 
I'hus to keep daring mortals more in awe. 
And iiurns Lorenzo still for the sublime 
Of life 1 to hang his airy nest on high, 
On the slight timber of the topmost bough, 
llock'd at each breeze, and menacing a fall 7 
Granting grim death at equal distance there ; 
Yet peace begins just where ambition ends. 
What makes man wretched 1 Hai)piness denied? 
Lorenzo ! no ; 'tis happiness disdain'd. 
She comes too meanly dress'd to win our smile : 
And calls herself Content, a homely name! 
Our flame is transport, and content our scorn. 
Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her, 
And weds a toil, a tempest, in her stead ; 
A tempest to warm transport near of kin. 
Unknowing what our mortal state admits. 



THE RELAPSE. 93 

Life's modest joys we ruin, while we raise; 
And all our e.vtiicic^ are wound j to peace ; 
Peace, the full portion of mankind below. 

And since thy peace is dear, ambitious youth I 
Of fortune fond ! as thoughtless of thy fate I 
As late I drew death's picture, to stir up 
Thy wholesome fears ; now, drawn in contrast, see 
Gay fortune's, thy vain hopes to reprimand. 
See, high in air, the sportive goddess hangs, 
Unlocks her casket, spreads her glittering ware, 
And calls tlie giddy winds to pulf abroad 
Her random bounties o'er the gaping throng. 
All rush rapacious ; friends o'er trodden friends, 
Sons o'er their fathers, subjects o'er their kings, 
Prie-ts o'er their gods, and lovers o'er the fair, 
(Still more adored,) to snatch the golden shower. 

Gold glitters most, where virtue shines no more ; 
As stars from abent suns have leave to shine. 
O, what a precious pack of votaries, 
Unkennel I'd from the jjrisons and the stews, 
Pour in, all opening in their idol's praise ; 
All, ardent, eye each wafiure of her hand, 
And, wide exj)anding their voracious jaws, 
Morsel on morsel swallow down unchew'd, 
Untasted, through m;id appetite for more ; 
Gorged to the throat, yet lean and rav'nous still : 
Sagacious all, to trace the smallest game. 
And bold to^eize the greatest. If (bless'd chance !) 
Court-zephyrs sweetly breathe, they launch, they Hy, 
O'er just, o'er sacred, all forbidden ground. 
Drunk with the burning scent of place or power. 
Staunch to the foot of lucre, till they die. 

Or, if for men you take them, as 1 mark 
Their manners, thou their various fates survey. 
With aim misnieasured, and iini)eiui)us speed, 
Some darting, strike their ardent wi.->h far olf, 
Through fury to possess it : some succeed, 
But stumble, and let fall tiie taken prize. 
From some, by sudden blasts, 'tis'whirl'd away, 
And lodged in bosoms that ne'er dreaui'd of gain 



94 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V. 

To some it sticks so close that, when torn off, 
Torn is the man, and mortal is the wound. 
Some, u'er-enamor'd of their bags, run mad, 
Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread. 
Together some, (unhappy rivals 1) seize, 
And rend abundance into poverty ; 
Loud croaks the raven of the law, and smiles : 
Smiles to the goddess ; but smiles most at those 
(Just victims of exorbitant desire I) 
Who perish at their own request, and, whelm'd 
Beneath her load of lavish grants, expire. 
Fortune is famous for lier number slain : 
The number small which happiness can bear. 
Though various for awhile their fates, at last 
One curse involves them all : at death's approach 
All read their riches backward into loss. 
And mourn, in just proportion to their store. 

Aiul death's approach (if orthodox my song) 
Is hasten'd by the lure of fortune's smiles. 
And art thou still a glutton of bright gold 1 
And art thou still rapacious of thy ruin 1 
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow ; 
A blow, which, while it executes, alarms ; 
And startles thousands with a single fall. 
As when some stately growth of oak or pine, 
Which nods aloft, and proudly spreads her shade, 
The sun's defiance, and the flock's defence ; 
By the strong strokes of laboring hinds subdued. 
Loud grcjans her last, and, rushing from her height, 
In cumbrous ruin thunders to the ground: 
The conscious forest trembles at the shock. 
And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound. 

These high-aim'd darts of death, and these alone, 
Should I collect, my quiver would be full : 
A quiver which, suspended in mid air, 
Or near heaven's archer, in the zodiac, hung, 
(So could it be,) should draw the public eye. 
The gaze and contemplation of mankind ! 
A constellation awful, yet benign. 
To guide the gay through life's tempestuous wave, 



THE RELAPSE. 95 

Nor suffer them to strike the common rock ; 
"From greater danger to grow more secure, 
And, wrapp'd in happiness, forget their fate." 

Lysander, happy past the couunon lot. 
Was warn'd of danger, but too gay to fear. 
He woo'd the fair Aspasia : she was kind : 
In youth, form, fortune, fame, they both were bless'd: 
All, who knew, envied ; yet in envy loved. 
Can fancy form more tinish'd happiness ? 
Fix'd was the nuptial hour. Her stalely dome 
Rose on the sounding beach. The glittering spires 
Float in the wave, and break against the shore : 
So break those glittering shadows, human joys. 
The faithless morning smiled : he takes his leave, 
To re-embrace, in extacies, at eve. 
The rising storm forbids. The news arrives ; 
Untold, she saw it in her servant's eye. 
She felt it seen : (her heart was apt to feel ;) 
And drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid, 
In suffocating sorrows, shares his tomb. 
Now round the sumptuous bridal monument, 
The guilty billows innocently roar; 
And the rough sailor, passing, drops a tear. 
A tear ! can tears sutfice ? — but not for me. 
How vain our etforts ! and our arti how vain .' 
The distant train of thought J took, to shun. 
Has thrown me on my fate — the-e died together; 
Happy in ruin ! undivorced by death ! 
Or ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace. — 
Nar( issA ! pity bleeds at thought of thee. 
Yet thou wast only near me ; not myself. 
Survive myself? — that cures all other woe. 
Narcissa lives ; Philander is forgot. 
O the soft commerce ! O the tender ties, 
Close-twisted with the fibres of the heart ! 
Which, broken, break them ; and drain off the soul 
Of human joy ; and make it pain to live. — 
And is it then to live 1 when such friends part, 
'Tis the survivor dies — My heart ! no more. 



mm ti)e Bivth 

THE 

INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

m TWO FARTS. 

CONTAINING THE NATURE, PROOF, AND IMPORTANCE 
OF IMMORTALITY. 



PART THE FIRST. 

WHERE, AMONG OTHER THINGS, 
GLOKY AND RICHES ARE PARTICULARLY CONSIDERED. 

PREFACE. 

Few ages have been deeper in dispute about relio^ion than this. 
The dispute about relig-iuii, and the practice of it, seldom go to- 
gether. The shorter, tlierel'ore, tlie dispute, the better. I think 
It may be reduced to this sing-le question. Is man immortal, or 
is lie not ? If he is not, all our disputes are mere amusements, 
or trials of skill. In this case, truth, reason, relig-iou, which g-ive 
our discourses such pomp and solemnity, are (as will be shown) 
mere empty sounds, without any meaning: in triem. But if man 
isimmortal, it will behoove him to be very serious about eternal 
consequences; or, in other words, to be truly reliu:ious. And this 
great fundamental truth, unesiablished, or unawakened in the 
minds of men, is, I conceive, the real source and support of all 
our infidelity ; how remote soever the particular objections ad- 
vanced may seem to be from it. 

Sensible appearances affect most men much more than abstract 
reasoiiiijg-s; and we daily see bodies drop around us, but the soul 
is invisible. The power which inclination has over the judg-ment 
is g-realer than can be well conceived by those that have not had 
an experience of it ; and of what numbers is it the sad interest 
that souls should not survive ! The heathen world confessed, that 
they rather hoped than (irmly believed immortality; and how 
many heathens Fiave we still amongst us! The sacred page as- 
sures us, that life and immortality are brought to light by the 
Gospel: but by how many is the (iospel rejected or overlooked! 
From these considerations, and from my being, accidentally, pri- ' 
vy to the sentiments of some particular persons, 1 have beau ioug 

96 



PREFACE. 97 

persuaded, that most, if not all, our iiifiJels (whatever name they 
take, and whatever scheme, lur arg-unieiit's sake, and to keep 
themselves in counienancc, tliey patronize) are siipporled in their 
deplorable error, by some doubt of their immortality, at the bot- 
tom. And I am satisfied, that men once thoroughly convuiced of 
their immortality, are not tar from being Christiana. For it is 
hard to conceive, that a man t'ully conscious eternal pain or hap- 
piness will certainly be his lot, should not earnestly and impar- 
tially inquire after the surest means of escapiiiof the one, and se- 
curing' the other. And of such an earnest and Impartial inquiry, 
1 well know the consequence. 

Here, therefore, in proof of this most fundamental truth, some 
plain arguments are oflered ; aigiiments deiived from principles 
which infidels admit in common with believers; arguments which 
appear to me altogether irresistible ; and such as, I arn satisfied, 
will have great. weight with all who give themselves ihe small 
trouble of looking seriously into their own bosoms, ami of ob- 
serving with any tolerable degree of attention what daily passes 
round about them in the world. If some arguments shall here 
occur which others have declined, they are submitted with all de- 
ference to better judgments, in this, 'of all points the most im- 
portant. For, as to the being of a God, that is no longer disput- 
ed ; but it is undisputed tor this reason only, viz : because, where 
the least pretence to reason is admitted, it must forever be indis- 
putable. And, of consequence, no man can be betrayed into a 
dispute of that nature by vanity ; which has a princip.^l share in 
animaliug our modern combatants against other articles of our 
belief. 

7 



THE 

INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

PART THE FIRST. 

TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY PELHAM, 

FIRST LORD COMMISSIONER OF THE TREASURY, AND 

CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER. 



She,* (for I know not yet her name in heaven,) 
Not early, like Narcissa, left the scene ; 
Nor sudden, like Philander. What avail 1 
This seeming mitigation but inflames ; 
This fancied med'cine heightens the disease. 
The longer known, the closer still she grew ; 
And gradual parting is a gradual death. 
'Tis the grim tyrant's engine, which extorts, 
By tardy pressure's still increasing weight, 
From hardest hearts, confession of distress. 

Oh the long, dark approach, through years of pain, 
Death's gallery ! (might I dare to call it so,) 
With dismal doubt, and sable terror, hung ; 
Sick hope's pale lamp its only glimmering ray : 
There Fate my melancholy walk ordain'd, 
Forbid self-love itself to flatter there. 
How oft I gazed, prophetically sad ! 
How oft I saw her dead ! while yet in smiles ! 
In smiles she sunk her grief, to lessen mine. 
She spoke me comfort, and increased my pain. 
Like powerful armies trenching at a town. 
By slow, and silent, but resistless sap, 
In his pale progress gently gaining ground, 
Death urged his deadly siege ; in spite of art, 
Of all the balmy blessings nature lends 

' Referrine to liigbt tbe Fiftb. 

98 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. fl! 

To succor frail humanity. Ye stars ! 

(Not now fir-st made familiar to my sight,) 

And thou, (J moon ! hear w itness ; many a night 

He tore the pillow from beneath my head, 

Tied down my sore attention to the shock, 

By ceaseless depredations on a life 

Dearer than that he left me. Dreadful post 

Of observation I darker every hour ! 

Less dread the day that drove me to the brink, 

And pointed at eternity below : 

When my soul shudder'd at futurity ; 

When, on a momeiit'.s point, the important die 

Of life and death spun doubtful, ere it fiell, " 

And turned up life ; my title to more woe. 

But why more woe 1 more comfort let it be. 
Nothing is dead but that which wish'd to die : 
Nothing is dead, but wretchedness and pain ; 
Nothing is dead, but what enr umber'd, gall'd, 
Block'd up the pass, and barr'd from real life. 
Where dwells that wish most ardent of the wisel 
Too dark the sun to see it ; highest stars 
Too low to reach it ; death, great death alone, 
O'er stars and sun triumphant, lauds us there. 

Nor dreadful our transition : though the mind, 
An artist at creating sell-alarms, 
Rich in expedients for impuetude. 
Is prone to paint it dreadful. Who can take 
Death's portrait true 1 The tyrant never sat. 
Our sketch all random strokes, conjecture all ; 
Close shuts the grave, nor tells one single tale. 
Death, and his image rising in the brain, 
Bear faint resemblance ; never are alike : 
Fear shakes the pencil ; fancy loves excess ; 
Dark ignorance is lavish of her shades ; 
And these the formidable picture draw. 

But grant the worst ; 'tis past ; new prospects rise ; 
And drop a veil eternal o'er her tomb. 
Far other views our contemplation claim ; 
Views that o'erpay the rigors of our life ; 
Views that suspend our agonies in death. 



100 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 

Wrapp'd in the thought of immortality, 
Wrapp'd in the single, tlie triumphant thought! 
Long life might lapse, age unperceivert come on; 
And find the soul unsated with her theme. 
Its nature, proof, importance, fire niy sf)ng. 
Oh that my song could emulate my soul ! 
Like her immortal. No ! — the soul disdains 
A mark so mean ; far nobler hope inflames; 
If endless ages can outweigh an hour, 
Let not the laurel, hut the palm, inspire. 

Thy nature, innnortality I who knows 1 
And yet who know-; it not ? It is but life 
In stronger thread of brighter color spun, 
And spun for ever. Dipp'd by cruel fate 
In Stygian dye, how black, how brittle here ! 
How short our correspondence with the sun ! 
And, while it lasts, inglorious ! Our best deeds, 
How wanting in their weight ! our highest joys 
Small cordials to support us in our pain. 
And give us strength to sutfer. But how great, 
To mingle interest, converse, amities. 
With all the sons of reason, scattered wide 
Through habitable space, wherever born, 
Howe'cr enduw'd ! to live free citizens 
Of universal nature ! to lay hold. 
By more than feeble faith, on the Supreme ! 
To call heaven's rich, unfathomable mines 
(Mines which support archangels in their state) 
Our own ! to rise in science, as in bliss. 
Initiate in the secrets of the skies ! 
To read creation, read its mighty plan 
In the bare bosom of the Deity ! 
The plan and execution to collate ! 
To see, before each glance of piercing thought, 
All cloud, all shadow, blown remote ; and leave 
No mystery — but that of love divine, 
Which lifts us on the seraph's flaming Wing, 
From earth's Aceldama, this field of blood, 
Of inward anguish, and of outward ill, 
From darkness and from dust, to such a scene J 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 101 

Love's element ! true joy's illustrious home ! 
From earth's sad contrast (now deplored) more fair ! 
What exquisite vicissitude of fate ! 
Bless'd absolution of our blackest hour ! 

LoRKNZo, these are thoughts that make man Man, 
The wise illumine, aggrandise the great, 
Ilow great, (while yet we tread the kindred clod, 
And every moment fear to sink beneath 
The clod we tread ; soon trodden by our sons ;) 
How great, in the wild whirl of time's pursuits, 
To stop, and pause, involved in high presage, 
Through the long vista of a thousand years, 
To stand contemplating our distant selves. 
As in a magnifying mirror seen, 
Enlarged, ennobled, elevate, divine ! 
To prophesy our own futurities ; 
To gaze in thought on what all thought transcends ! 
To talk with fellow candidates, of joys 
As far beyond conception as desert, 
Ourselves th' astonished talkers, and the tale ! 

Lorenzo, swells thy bosom at the thought] 
The swell becomes thee : 'tis an honest pride. 
Revere thyself, — and yet thyself despise. 
His nature no man can o'errate ; and none 
Can underrate his merit. Take good heed, 
Nor there be modest where thou shouldst be proud ; 
That almost universal error shun. 
How ju<t our pride, when we behold those heights ! 
Not tho<e ambition paints in air, but those 
Reason points out, and ardent virtue gains ; 
And angels emulate ; our pride how just ! 
When mount we ? when those shackles cast ? when 
This cell of the creation 1 this small nest, [quit 

Stuck in a corner of the universe, 
Wrapp'd up in fleecy cloud, and fine-spun air 1 
Fine-spun to sense ; but gross and feculent 
To souls celestial ; souls ordain'd to breathe 
Ambrosial gales, and drink a purer sky ; 
Greatly triumphant on Time's farther shore, 
Where virtue reigns, enrich'd with full arrears ; 



102 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT 'V 

While pomp imperial begs an alms of Peace. 

In empire high, or In proud science deep, 
Ye born of earth ! on what can you confer, 
With half the dignity, with half the gain, 
The gust, the glow of rational delight, 
As on this theme, which angels praise and share ! 
Man's fetes and fevors are a theme in heaven. 

What wretched repetition cloys us here ! 
What periodic potions for the sick ! 
Distemper'd bodies ! and distemper'd minds ! 
In an eternity, what scenes shall strike ! 
Adventures thicken, novelties surprise ! 
What webs of wonder shall unravel there ! 
What full day pour on all the paths of heaven, 
And light th' Almighty's footsteps in the deep ! 
How shall the blessed day of our discharge 
Unwind, at once, the labyrinths of Fate, 
And straighten its inextricable maze ! 

If inextinguishable thirst in man 
To know ; how rich, how full our banquet there ! 
There, not the moral world alone unfolds ; 
The world material, lately seen in shades. 
And, in those shades, by fragments only seen, 
And seen those fragments by the lab'ring eye, 
Unbroken, then, illustrious, and entire, 
Its ample sphere, its univeroal frame. 
In full dimensions, swells to the survey; 
And enters, at one glance, the ravish'd sight. 
From some superior point (where who can tell? 
Suffice it ; 'tis a point where gods reside) 
How shall the stranger man's illumined eye, 
In the vast ocean of unbounded space, 
Behold an infinite of floating worlds 
Divide the crystal waves of ether pure. 
In endless voyage without port ! The least 
Of these disseminated orbs, how great ! 
Great as they are, what numbers these surpass, 
Huge, as Leviathan, to that small race, 
Those twinkling nmltitudes of little life. 
He swallows unperceived ! Stupendous these I 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 105 

Yet what are these stupendous to the whole 1 
As particles, as atoms ill perceived ; 
As circulating globules in our veins ; 
So vast the plan. Fecundity divine ! 
Exuberant source ! perhaps I wrong thee still. 

If admiration is a source of joy. 
What transport hence ! Yet this the least in heaven. 
What this to that illustrious robe He wears, 
Who toss'd this ma-s of wonders from his hand, 
A specimen, an earnest of his power ! 
'Tis to that glory, whence all glory flows, 
As the mead's liieanest flow'ret to the sun. 
Which gave it birth But what, this Sun of heaven 1 
This bliss supreme of the supremely bless'd ? 
Death, only death the question can resolve. 
By death cheap bought the ideas of our joy : 
The bare ideas ! Solid happiness 
So distant from its shadow chased below. 

And chase we still the phantom through the fire, 
O'er bog, and brake, and precipice, till death? 
And toil we still for sublunary pay 1 
Defy the dangers of the tield'and flood. 
Or, spider-like, spin cut our precious all, 
Our more than vitals spin (if no regard 
To great futurity) in curious webs 
Of subtle thought, and exquisite design, 
(Fine net-work of the brain,) to catch a fly! 
The momentary" buzz of vain renown ! 
A name ! a mortal immortality ! 
Or, (meaner still,) inslCiid of grasping air, 
For sordid lucre plunge we in the mire ■? 
Drudge, sweat, through every shame, for eveiygain. 
For vile contaminating trash , throw up 
Our hope in heaven, our dignity with man, 
And deify the dirt, matured to gold ? 
Ambition, avarice; the two demons these, 
Which goad through every slougli our human herd, 
Hard-travell'd from the cr.-.dle to the grave. 
How low the wretches stoop ! how steep they climb ! 
These demons burn mankiiid; but most possess 



104 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VI. 

Lorenzo's bosom, and turn out the skies. 

Is it in time to hide eternity 1 
And why not in an atom on the shore 
To cover ocean 1 or a mote, the sun ? 
Glory and wealth ! have they this blinding power 1 
What if to them I prove Lorenzo blind 1 
Would it surprise thee 1 Be thou then surprised ; 
Thou neither know'st : their nature learn from me. 

Mark well, as foreign as these subjects seem, 
What close connexion ties them to my theme. 
First, what is true ambition 1 The pursuit 
Of glory, nothing less than man can share. 
Were they as vain as gaudy-minded man, 
As flatulent with fumes of self-applause, 
Their arts and conquests animals might boast, 
And claim their laurel crowns as well as we ; 
But not celestial. Here we stand alone ; 
As in our form, distinct, pre-eminent. 
If prone in thought, our stature is our shame ; 
And man should blush his forehead meets the skies. 
The visible and present are for brutes, 
A slender portion ! and a narrow bound ! 
These reason, with an energy divine, 
O'erleaps ; and claims the future and unseen ; 
The vast unseen ! the future fathomless ! 
When the great soul buoys up to this high point, 
Leaving gross nathre's sediments below. 
Then, and then only, Adam's offspring quits 
The sage and hero of the fields and woods. 
Asserts his rank, and rises into man. 
This is ambition : this is human fire. 

Can parts or place (two bold pretenders !) make 
Lorenzo great, and pluck him from the throng? 

Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings, 
Our boast but ill deserve. A feeble aid ! 
Dedalian enginery ! if these alone 
Assist our flight, fame's flight is glory's fall. 
Heart-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high, 
Our height is but the gibbet of our name. 
A celebrated wretch when I behold, 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 



105 



When I behold a genius bright, and base, 
Of towering talents, and terrestrial aims ; 
Methlnks I see, -as thrown from her high sphere, 
The glorious fragments of a soul immortal. 
With rubbish mix'd, and glittering in the dust. 
Struck at the splendid, melancholy sight. 

At once compassion soft, and envy, rise ■ 

But wherefore envy ? Talents angel-bright, 
If wanting worth, are shining instruments 
In fiilse ambition's hand, to finish faults 
Illustrious, and give infamy renown. 

Great ill is an achievement of great powers. 
Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. 
Reason the mean?, affections choose our end ; 
Weans have no merit, if our end amiss. 
If wrong our hearts, our heads are right in vain: 
What is a Peluam's head, to Pelham's heart 1 
Hearts are proprietors to all apfilause. 
Right ends and means make wisdom : worldly-wise 
Is but half-witted, at its highest praise. 

Let genius then despair to make thee great ; 
Nor flatter station : what is station high 1 
Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts and begs ; 
It begs an alms of homage from the throng. 
And oft the throng denies its charity. 
Monarchs, and ministers, are awful names ; 
Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 
Religion, public order, both exact 
External homage, and a supple knee, 
To beings pompously set up, to serve 
The meanest slave : all more is merit's due. 
Her sacred and inviolable right ; 
Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man. 
Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth ; 
Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 
Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, 
And vole the mantle into majesty. 
Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 
His royal robe, unborrow'd and unbought, 
His own, descending fairly from his sires. 



106 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VI. 

Shall man be proud to wear his livery, 

And Souls in ermine scorn a soul without "? 

Can place or lessen us, or aggrandiza? 

Pigniies are pigmies still, though perch'd on Alps ; 

And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 

Each man makes his own stature, builds himself: 

Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids : 

Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 

Of these sure truths dost thou demand the cause 1 
The cause is lodged in immortality. 
Hear, and assent. Thy bosom burns for power; 
What station charms thee I I'll install thee there : 
'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before ? 
Then thou before wast something less than man. 
Has thy new post betrayed thee into pride I 
That treacherous pride betrays thy dignity ; 
That pride defames humanity, and calls 
The being mean which stalls or strings can raise. 
That pride, like hooded hawks, in darkness soars, 
From blindness bold, and towering to the skies. 
'Tis born of ignorance, which knows not hian : 
An angel's second ; nor his second long. 
A Nkro quitting his imperial throne. 
And courting glory from the tinkling string, 
But faintly shadows an immortal soul. 
With empire's self to pride or rapture fired. 
If nobler motives minister no cure. 
E'en vanity forbids thee to be vain. 

High worth is elevated place : 'tis more : 
It makes the post stand candidate for thee ; 
Wakes more than monarchs, makes an honest man : 
Though no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth ; 
And though it wears no riband, 'tis renown ; 
Renown that would not quit thee though disgraced, 
jSJor leave thee pendent on a master's smile. 
Other ambition nature interdicts ; 
Nature proclaims it most absurd in man, 
By pointing at his origin and end : 
Milk and a swathe, at first, his whole demand; 
His whole domain, at last, u turf or stone ; 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 107 

To whom, between, a world may seem too small. 

Souls truly great dart forward, on the wing 
Of just ambition, to the grand result. 
The curtain's fall. There, see the buskin'd chief 
Unshod behind this momentary scene ; 
Reduced to his own stature, low or high, 
As vice or virtue sinks him or sublimes ; 
And laugh at this fantastic nuunmery. 
This antic prelude of grote-que events, 
Where dwarfs are often stilted, and betray 
A littleness of soul by worlds o'errun. 
And nations laid in blood. Dread sacrifice 
To Chri tian pride ! which had with horror shock'd 
The darkest Pagans, otter'd to their gods. 

O thou viost Christian enemy to peace ! 
Again in arms 1 again provoking fate 1 
That prince, and that alone is truly great. 
Who draws the sword reluctant, gladly sheathes ; 
On empire builds what empire far outweighs, 
And makes his throne a scalibld to the skies. 

Why this so rare 1 becau.^e forgot of all 
The day of death ; that venerable day. 
Which sits as judge ; that day, which shall pronounce 
On all our days, absolve them, or condemn. 
Lorenzo, never shut thy thought against it; 
Be levees ne'er so full, all'ord it room, 
And give it audience in the cabinet. 
That friend consulted, flatteries apart, 
Will tell thee fair, if thou art great or mean. 

To dote on aught may leave us or be left, 
Is that ambition ? then let flames descend, 
Point to the centre their inverted sphes. 
And learn humiliation from a soul 
Which boasts her lineage from celestial fire. 
Yet these are they the world pronounces wise ; 
The w orld, whicli cancels nature's right and wrong, 
And casts new wisdom ; e'en the grave man lends 
His solenm face, to countenance the coin. 
Wisdom for parts is madness for the whole. 
This stamps the paradox, and gives us leave 



108 THE COMPLAINT, NIGHT VI. 

To call the wisest weak, the richest poor, 
The most ambitious unambitious, mean ; 
In triumph mean, and abject on a throne. 
Nothing can make it less than mad in man, 
To put forth all his ardour, all his art, 
And give his soul her full unbounded flight, 
But reaching Him, who gave her wings to fly. 
When blind ambition quite mistakes her road, 
And downward pores, for that which shines above, 
Substantial happiness and true renown ; 
Then, like an idiot gazing on the brook, 
We leap at stars, and fasten in the mud ; 
At glory grasp, and sink in infamy. 

Ambition ! powerful source of good and ill ! 
Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, 
When disengaged from earth, with greater ease 
And swifter flight transports us to the skies ; 
By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired. 
It turns a curse ; it is our chain and scourge, 
In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, 
Close grated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
All prospect of eternity shut out ; 
And, but for execution, ne|,er set free. 

With error in ambition justly charged, 
Find we Lorenzo wiser in his wealth 1 
What if thy rental I reform ? and draw 
An inventory new, to set thee right 1 
Where thy true treasure 1 Gold says, " Not in me : " 
And, "Not in me," the diamond. Gold is poor; 
India's insolvent : seek it in thyself. 
Seek in thy naked self, and find it there ; 
In being so descended, form'd, endovv'd ; 
Sky- born, sky-guided, sky-returning race ! 
Erect, immortal, rational, divine ! 
In senses, which inherit earth, and heavens ; 
Enjoy the various riches nature yields ; 
Far nobler ! give the riches they enjoy ; 
Give taste to fruits ; and harmony to groves ; 
Their radiant beams to gold, and gold's bright sire 
Take in at once the landscape of the world. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 109 

At a small inlet which a grain might close, 
And half create the wondrous world they see, 
Our senses, as our reason, are divine. 
But for the mngic organ's powerful charm. 
Earth were a rude, uncolored chaos still, 
Objects are but lii' occasion ; ours th' exploit; 
Ours is the cloth, the pencil, and the paint, 
Which nature's admirable picture draws ; 
And l)eautifies creation's ami)le dome. 
Like Milton's Eve, when gazing on the lake, 
Man makes the matchless image man admires. 
Say, then, shall man, his thoughts all sent abroad, 
Superior wonders in himself forgot. 
His admiration waste on objects round, 
When Heaven makes him the soul of all he sees t 
Absurd ! not rare ! so great, so mean, is man. 

What wealth in senses such as these ! what wealth 
In fancy, fired to form a fairer scene 
Than r^en-e surveys ! in memory's tirm record, 
Which, should it perish, could this world recall 
Froip the dark shadows of o'erwhelming years j 
In colors fresh, originally bright. 
Preserve its portrait, and report its fate ! 
What wealth in intellect, that sov'reign power ! 
Which sense and fancy summons to the bar; 
Interrogates, approves, or re|)rehends ; 
And fronj the mass those underlings import, 
From their materials, sifted and refined. 
And in truth's balance accurately weigh'd, 
Forms art and science, government and law ; 
The solid basis, and the beauteous frame, 
The vitals and the grace of civil life ! 
And manners, (sad e.xception !) set aside, 
Strikes out, with master hand, a copy fair 
Of his idea, whose indulgent thought 
Long, long ere chaos teem'd, plann'd human bliss. 

What wealth in souls th;it soar, dive, range around, 
Disdaining limit, or from place or time ; 
And hear at once, in thought extensive, hear 
Th' Almighty Fiat, and the trumpet's sound ! 



110 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VI 

Bold, on creation's outside walk, and view 
What was, and is, and more than e'er shall be ; 
Coniinanding with omnipotence of thought, 
Creations new in fancy's field to rise ! 
Souls that can grasp whate'er the Almighty made, 
And wander wild through things impossible ! 
What wealth, in fticulties of endless growth, 
In quenchless passions, violent lO crave, 
In liberty to choose, in power to reach, 
And in duration, (how thy riches rise 1) 
Duration to perjjetuate — boundless bliss ! 
Ask you, what power resides in feeble man 
That bliss to gain 1 Is virtue's then unknown 1 
Virtue, our |)resent peace, our future prize. 
Man's unprecarious, natural estate, 
Improveahle at will, in virtue lies ; 
Its tenure sure ; its income is divine, 

High-built abundance, heap on heap! for whatl 
To breed new wants, and beggar us the more ; 
Then, make a richer scramble for the throng ! 
Soon as this feeble pulse, which leaps so long 
Almost by miracle, is tired with play. 
Like rubi)ish from disploding enguies thrown, 
Our magazines of hoarded trifles tiy ; 
Fly diverse ; fiy to foreigners, to foes, 
New masters court, and call the former fools, 
(How justly I) for dependence on their stay : 
Wide scatter, tirst, our play things ; then our dust. 

Dost court abundance for the sake of peace 1 
Learn, and lament thy self-defeated scheme : 
Riches enable to be richer still ; 
And, richer still, what mortal can resist 1 
Thus wealth, (a cruel task-master I) enjoins 
New toils, succeeding toils, an endless train ! 
And murders peace, which taught it first to shine. 
Tlie poor are half as wretclied as the rich ; 
Whose proud and painful privilege it is, 
At once to bear a double load of woe ; 
To feel the stings of envy and of want, 
Outrageous want 1 both Indies cannot cure. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. Ill 

A competence is vital to content. 

Much wealth is corpulence, if not disease ; 

Sick, or encumber'd, is onr happiness. 

A competence is all we c:xn enjoy. 

Oh be content, where Heaven can give no more ! 

More, like a flash of water from a lock, 

Quickens our spirits' movement for an hour ; 

But soon its force is spent, nor rise our joys 

Above our native temper's common stream. 

Hence, disappointment lurks in every prixe. 

As bees in flowers, and stings us with success 

The rich man, who denies it, proudly feigns ; 
Nor knows the wise are privy to the lie. 
Much learning shows how little mortals know; 
Much wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy : 
At best it babies us with endless toys. 
And keeps us children till we drop to dust. 
As monkeys at a mirror stand amazed. 
They f lil to find what they so plainly see ; 
Thus men, in shining riches, see the face 
Of happiness, nor know it is a shade ; 
But gaze, and touch, and peep, and peep again, 
And wi-;h, and wonder it is ab-ent still. 

How few can rescue opulence from want ! 
Who lives to nature rarely can be poor; 
Who lives to fancy never can be rich. 
Poor is the man in debt ; the man of gold, 
In debt to fortune, trembles at her power. 
The man of reason, smiles at her and death. 
Oh, what a patrimony this ! A being 
Of such inherent strength and majesty. 
Not worlds possess'd can raise it ; worlds destroy'd 
Can't injure ; which holds on its glorious course, 
When thine, O nature ! ends ; too bless'd to moum 
Creation's obsequies. What treasure this ! 
The monarch is a beggar to the man. 

Immortal ! Ages pass'd, yet nothing gone 1 
Morn without eve ! a race without a goal ; 
Unshorten'd by progression infinite ! 
Futurity forever future ! Life 



112 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VI 

Beginning still where computation ends ! 
'Tis the description of a deity ! 
'Tis the description of the meanest slave ! 
The meanest slave dares then Lorknzo scorn I 
The meanest slave thy sov'reign glory shares. 
Proud youth ! fastidious of the lower world ! 
Man's lawful pride includes humility ; 
Stoops to the lowest ; is too great to find 
Inferiors ; all immortal ! Brothers all I 
Proprietors eternal of thy love, 

Immortal ! What can strike the sense so strong 
As this the soul ? It thunders to the thought; 
Reason amazes ; gratitude o'erwhelnisl 
No more we slumber on the brink of fate: 
Roused at the sound, th' exulting soul ascends, 
And breathes her native air; an air that feeds 
Ambitions high, and fans ethereal fires : 
Cluick kindles all that is divine within us ; 
Nor leaves one loitering thought beneath the stars. 
Has not Lorknzo's bo-^om caught the fiame 1 
Immortal ! Were but one immortal, how 
Would others envy ! how would thrones adore ! 
Because 'tis conunon, is the blessing lost? 
How this ties up the bounteous h;iiul of Heaven ! 
Oh vain, vain, vahi, all else ! Eternity ! 
A glorious and a needful refuge, that, 
From vile imprisonment in abject views. 
'Tis imuiortality, 'tis that alone, 
Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, 
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. 
That only, and that amply, this performs ; 
Lifts us above life's pains, her joys above; 
Their terror those, and these their lustre lose : 
Eternity deiiending covers all ; 
Eternity dejjending all achieves ; 
Sets earth at distance ; casts her into shades ; 
Blends her distinctions ; abrogates her powers ; 
The low, the lofty, joyous, and severe, 
Fortune's dread frowns, and fascinating smiles, 
Make one promiscuous and neglected heap, 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 113 

The man beneath ; If I may call him man 
Whom imniorUility's full force inspires. 
Nothing terrestrial touches his high thought; 
Suns shine unseen, aiid thunder-, roll unheard, 
By minds quite conscious of their high descent, 
Their present province, and their future prize ; 
Divinely dartuig upward every wish. 
Warm on the wuig, in glorious absence lost ! 

Doubt you this truth .' Why labors your belief 1 
If earth's whole orb by some due disUmced eye 
Were seen at once, her towering Alps would sink, 
And level'd Atlas leave an even sphere. 
Thus earth, and all tiiat earthly minds admire 
Is swallow'd in eternity's vast round. 
To that stupendous view when souls awake, 
So large of late, so mountainous to man, 
Time's toys subside ; and equal all below. 

Enthusiastic this 1 Then all are weak 
But rank enthusiasts. To this godlike height 
Some souls have soar'd ; or martyrs ne'er had bled : 
And all may do « hat has by nuiii been done. 
Who, beaten by these sublunary storms. 
Boundless, interminable joys can weigh, 
Unraptnred, unexalled, uniiiHamed ? 
What slave unbless'd, who, from to-morrow's dawa 
Expects an empire ? He forgets his chain, 
And throned in thought, hi> abse;it sceptre waves. 

And what a sceptre waits us I what a throne ! 
Her own innnense appointments to compute, 
Or comprehend her high prerogatives, 
In this her dark minority, how toils. 
How vainly pants the human soul divine ! 
Too great the bounty seems for earthly joy; 
What heart but trembles at so strange a bliss 1 

In spite of all the truths the muse has sung, 
Ne'er to be prized enough ! enough revolved ! 
Are there wiio wrap the world so close about them, 
They see no further than the ckmds ] and dance 
On heedless vanity's fantastic toe. 
Till, stumbling at a straw m their career, 



114 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VI. 

Headlong they plunge where end both dance and 

Are there, Lorknzo ? Is it possible 1 [song 1 

Are there on earth (let me not call them men) 

Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts; 

Unconscious as the mountain of its ore ; 

Or rock of its ine-;timable gem 7 

When rocks shill melt, and mountains vanish, these 

Shall know their treasure ; treasure then no more, 

Are there, (still more amazing!) who resist 

The rising thought "? who smoother in its birth, 

The glorious truth 1 wlio struggle to be brutes 1 

Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way, 

And, with rever<ed ambition, strive to sink 1 

Who labor downward- through th' opposing powers 

Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 

To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 

Of endless night 7 night darker than the grave's 1 

Who fight the proofs of iuuriortality J 

With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, 

Work all their engines, level their black fires, 

To blot from man this attribute divine. 

(Than vital blood far dearer to the wise,) 

Blasphemers, and rank atheists, to themselves ? 

To contradict them, see all nature rise: 
What object, what event, the moon beneath, 
But argues or endears an after scene 1 
To reason prove-;, or weds it to desire ? 
All things proclaim it needful ; some advance 
One precious step beyond, and prove it sure. 
A thousand arguments swarm round my pen. 
From heaven, and earth, and man. Indulge a few, 
By nature, as her conmion haliit, worn ; 
So pressing Providence a truth to teach. 
Which truth untaught, all other truths were A'ain. 

Thou ! who-^e all providential eye surveys, 
Whose hand directs, whose Spirit fills and warms 
Creation, and holds empire far beyond! 
Eternity's Inhabitant august ! 
Of two eternities amazhig Lord ; 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 115 

One pass'd ere man's or angel's had begun ; 

Aid ! while I rescue from the foe's assault 

Thy glorious immortality in man : 

A theme for ever, and for all, of weight, 

Of moment infinite ! but relish'd most 

By those who love thee most, who most adore. 

Nature, thy daughter, ever changing birth 
Of thee, the great Imniut:ible, to man 
Speaks wisdom ; is hi-; oracle supreme ; 
And he who most consults lier is most wise 
Lorenzo, to this heavenly Delphos haste; 
And come back all immortal ; alt divine : 
Look nature through, 'tis revolution all ; 
All change ; no death. Day follows night ; and night 
The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
Earth takes th' example. See, the sunnuer gay, 
With her green chaplet and amltrosial flowers, 
Droops into pallid autunm : winter grey. 
Horrid with frost and turbulent with storm, 
Blows autunm and his golden fruits away : 
Then melts into the spring : soft spring, with breath 
Favonian, from warm chambers of the south, 
Recalls the first. All, to reflourish, fades ; 
As in a wheel, all sinks, to reascend. 
Emblems of man, who passes, not expires. 

With this minute distinction, emblems just, 
Nature revolves, but man advances ; both 
Eternal ; that a circle, this a lin^ 
That gravitates, this soars. Transpiring soul, 
Ardent and tremulous, like flame ascends. 
Zeal and humility her wings, to heaven. 
The world of matter, with its various forms. 
All dies into new life. Life born from death 
Rolls the vast mass, and shall for ever roll. 
No single atom, once in being, lost. 
With change of counsel charges the Most High. 

What hence infers LoRE^JZo 1 Can it be 1 
Matter immortal 1 anil shall spirit die ? 
Above the nobler shall less noble rise 1 
Shall man alone, for whom all else revives. 



116 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VI. 

No resurrection know ? shall man alone, 
Imperial man ! be sown in barren ground, 
Less privileged than grain, on which he feeds 1 
Is man, in whoiri alone his power to prize 
The bliss of being, or with previous pain 
Deplore its period, by the spleen of fate, 
Severely doom'd death's single unredeem'd 1 

If nature's revolution speaks aloud, 
In her gradation, hear her louder still. 
Look nature through, 'tis neat gradation all. 
By what minute degrees her scale ascends ! 
Each middle nature join'd at each extreme, 
To that above it join'd, to that beneath. 
Parts into parts reciprocally shot, 
Abhor divorce : wh;it love of union reigns ! 
Here dormant matter waits a call to life • 
Half-life, half-death, join there : here, life and sense ; 
There, sense from reason steals a glimmering ray ; 
Reason shines out in man. But how preserved 
The chain unltniken upward, to the realms 
Of incorporeal lile ? tho.-c realms of bliss, 
Where death has no dominion 1 Grant a make 
Half-mortal, half-inunortal ; earthy, part, 
And part ethereal ; grant the soul of man 
Eternal ; or in man the series ends. 
Wide yawns the gt'.p ; connexion is no more : 
Check'd reason halts ; her next step wants support; 
Striving to climb, ||t "tumbles from her scheme ; 
A scheme, analog ^P-onounced so true ; 
Analogy, man's surest guide below. 

Thus far, all nature calls on thy belief. 
And will Lorenzo, careless of thS call, 
False attestation on all nature charge. 
Rather than violate his league with death? 
Renounce his reason, rather than renounce 
The dust beloved, and run the risk of heaven 1 
Oh, what indignity to deathless souls ! 
What treason to the majesty of man ! 
Of man immortal ! Hear the lofty style: 
" If so decreed, th' Almighty will be done. 



THK INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 117 

Let earth dissolve, yon pondrous orbs descend, 

And grind us into du-t. Tlie soui is sate ; 

The man emerges ; mounts above the wreck, 

As towering tiume from nature's funeral pyre ; 

O'er devastation, as a gainer, smiles ; 

His charter, his inviolable rights, 

Well pleased to learn from thunder's impotence, 

Death's pointless darts, and hell's defeated storms." 

But these chuneras touch not thee, Lorenzo ! 
The glories of the world thy sevenfold shield. 
Other ambition than of crowns in air. 
And superlunary felicities 

And turn iho<e glories tliat enchant, against thee. 
Thy bosom warm. I'll c(jo1 it. if I can ; 
What ties thee to this life proclaims the next. 
If wise, the cause that wounds thee is thy cure. 

Come, my ambitious 1 let us mount together, 
(To mount, Lorenzo never can refu>&,) 
And from the clouds, where pride delights to dwell, 
Look down on earth. Wliat seest thou ? Wondrous 
Terrestial wonders, that eclipse the skies, [things ! 
AVhat lengths of labor'd lands I what loaded seas ! 
Loaded by man, for pleasure, wealth, or war! 
Seas, winds, and planets, into service brought. 
His art acknowledge, and promote his ends. 
Nor can th' eternal rocks his will withstand. 
What level'd mountains ! and what lifted vales ! 
O'er vales and mountains sumptuous cities swell, 
And gild our landscape with their glittering spires. 
Some 'mid the wandering waves majestic rise ; 
And JSeptune holds a mirror to their charms. 
Far greater still ! (what cannot mortal might 1) 
See, wide dominions ravish'd from the deep ! 
The narrow'd deep with indignation foams. 
Or southward turn ; to delicate and grand ; 
The finer arts there ripen in the sun. 
How the tall temples, as to meet their gods, 
Ascend the skies ! the jiroud triumphal arch 
Shows us half heaven beneath its ample bend. 
High through mid air, here, streams are taught to flow; 



118 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VX. 

Whole rivRr<, there, hiid by in basons, sleep. 
Here, plains turn oceans ; there vast oceans join. 
Through kingdoms chunnel'd deep from shore to 

shore ; 
And changed creition takes its f ice from man. 
Beats thy brave breast for fnrmid ible scenes, 
Where fame and empire wait npan the sword 1 
See fields in blood ; hear naval thunders rise ; 
Britannia's voice ! that awes the world to peace. 
How yon enormous mole projecting breaks 
The mid-sea furious waves ! Their roar amidst, 
Outspeaks the Deity, and says, " O main ! 
Thus far, nor farther: new restraints obey." 
Earth's disembowel'd ! measured are the skies! 
Stars are detected in their deep recess ! 
Creation widens ! vanquish'd nature yields I 
Her secrets are extorted I art prevails I 
What monument of genius, spirit, power ! 

And now, Lorenzo ! raptured at this scene. 
Whose glories render heaven superfluous ! say, 
Whose footsteps these ?— Immortals have been here. 
Could less than souls immortal this have done "? 
Earth's cover'd o'er with proofs of souls immortal, 
And proofs of immortality forgot. 

To flatter thy grand foible, I confess. 
These are ambition's works : and these are great ; 
But this, the least immortal souls can do ; 
Transcend thein all. But what can these transcend 1 
Dost ask me, what 1 — One sigh for the distress'd. 
What then for infidels 1 A deeper sigh. 
'Tis moral grandeur makes the mighty man : 
How little they, who think aught great below ! 
All our ambitions death defeats, but one ; 
And that it crowns. Here cease we : but, ere long, 
More powerful proof shall take the field against thee, 
Stronger than death, and smiling at the tomb. 



BEING THE SECOND PART OF THK 

INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

CONTAINING THK NATURE, PROOF, AND IMPORTANCK 
OF IMMORTALITY. 



PREFACE. 

As we are at war with the power, it were well if we were al 
war with the manners of France. A land of levity is a land of 
g-uilt. A serious mnid is the native soil of every virtue, and ihe 
single character that does true honor to mankind. The soul's im- 
mortality has been the favorite theme with the serious of all a^es. 
Nor is it stransre : it is a suhject by far the most interesting anil 
important that can enter the mind of man. Of highest moment 
this subject always was, and always will be. Yet this its highest 
moment seems to admit of increase at this day : a sort of occa- 
sional importance is superadded to the natural weight of it, if 
that opinion which is advanced in the preface to the preceding 
Night be just. It is there supposed, that all our infidels, what- 
ever scheme, for argument's sake, and to keep themselves in 
countenance, they patronize, are betrayed into their deplorable 
error, by some doubts of their immortality at the bottom. And 
the more I consider this point, the more 1 am persuaded of the 
truth of that opinion. Though the distrust of a futurity is a 
strange error; yet it is an error into which bad men may naturally 
be distressed. For it is impossible to bid defiance to final ruin, 
without some refuge in imaginalion, some presumption of 
escape. And what presumption is there ? There are but two 
in nature ; but two within tlie compass of human thought. And 
these are, — Tliat either God will not, or cannot punish. Con- 
sidering the divine attributes, the first is too gross to be digested 
by our strongest wishes. And since omnipotence is as much a 
divine attribute as holiness, that God cannot punish is as absurd 
a supposition as the former. Goo certainly can punish as loii°^ 
as wicked men exist. In non-existentie, theretbre, is their only 
refusre ; and consequently oou-existeuce is their strongest wish. 

119 



120 PREFACE. 

And sironof wislins have a sMaiiw infiiipnce nn onr opininns; 
they bias ihe juilu'men', in a innnner alirnxt iiii-rpili!)!e. And 
Biiice on Ihis memlier ot' thi'ir alieriiative ihere are some very 
small appearances in their favor, ami none ai ail on llie other, 
theycaich at this reed, ihcy lay hold on (his chiiiiera, to save ' 
tlieiiiselves from the shock and horror of an immediate aiiJ abso- 
lute despair. 

On reviewinsT my subject, by the lijsrht which Ihis arsrntnenf, 
and others ot" like tendency, ilirew upon it, J was more inclined 
than ever to pursue il, asii appeared to me fo strike directly at 
the main root of ail our infi li-lity. In ihe Cojlowin;'' p-iyes it is,' 
accordinsriv, pursued at larg-e; and some arijumfiiis for nnmor- 
ta.lity, new at least tome, are ventured on in ihem. Tlieie also 
llie wiiier has made an atipmpf to set the uross absnrdilies and 
horror.s of annihiUiiion in a In ler and more alftctiiig' view than 
is (I think) 10 he mel with elsewhere. 

Theg-enllempii for whose sake t hi* attempt was chiefly made pro- 
fess ofreat admiraiion for the v^isdi>in of heathen antiquity. What 
pity it is they are not sincere I If they were smcpie, how would it 
mortify them lo consider, with what contempt and abhorrence their 
notions would have been rpceiveil by those whom Ihey so much 
admire? What degree of contempt and abhorrence would fall 
to their share may be conjeciiired by the loliowniir matter of 
fact (in my opiuioii) exireniely memorable. Of all llieir heathen 
tvonliies, Socrates (ir i< well' known) was the most guarded, 
di>ipassiniiate and composed: yet this great master of temper 
was anufry; and angry at his last hour; ami angry with Ins 
friend ; aiid angry fur what deserved acknowledgment ; angry 
for a right and 'tender instance of true friendship towards him. 
Is not this surprising? What coulil be the cause ? The cause 
was for his honor: it was a truly noble though, perhaps, a too 
puiiciillious regard for immortality; for his t'riend askiii": him, 
with such an affectiourtte conceiii as became a fVieml, "Where 
he should deposite his remains >" it was resented by Socrates, as 
implying a dishonorable supposition, that he could be so mean 
as to have a regard for anything, even in himself, that was not 
immortal. 

This fact, well considered, would make our infidels withdraw 
their admiration from Socrates; or make them endeavor, by 
their imitation of this illustrious example, to share his glory: 
and, consequently, it would incline them to peruse the following 
pages with candor and impartiality; which is all 1 desire; and 
that, for their sakes : for 1 am persuaded, that an unprejudiced 
infidel must necessarily receive some advantageous iiiipressioas 
from them. 

July 7th, 1744. 



INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 
PART THE SECOND. 



Heaven gives the needful but neglected call. 

What day, what hour but knocks at human hearts, 

To wake the soul to sense of future scenes f 

Deaths stand, like Mercuries, in every way, 

And kindly point us to our journey's end. 

PoPK, who couldst make immortals ! art thou dead 1 

I give thee joy ; nor will I take my leave ! 

So soon to follow. Man but dives in death: 

Dives from tlie sun, in fairer day to rise ; 

The grave, his subterranean road to bliss. 

Yes, infinite indulgence plann'd it so : 

Through various parts our glorious story runs ; 

Time gives the preface, endless age unrolls 

The volume (ne'er unroU'd !) of human fate. 

This eartli and skies * already have proclairn'd. 

This world's a prophecy of worlds to come ; 

And who what God foretells (who speaks in things 

Still louder than in words) shall dare deny 1 

If nature's arguuients appear too weak, 

Turn a new leaf, and stronger read in man. 

If man sleeps on. untaught by what he sees, 

Can he prove infidel to what he feels ? 

He, whose blind thought futurity denies, 

Unconscious bears, Bkllerophon 1 like thee, 

His own indictment; he condemns himself: 

Who reads his bosom reads immortal life ; 

Or, nature, there, imposing on her sons, 

Has written fables ; man was made a lie. 

121 

• Night the SUth. 



122 THE COMPLAINT. NIOHT VII. 

Why discontent for ever harbor'd there 1 
Incurable consumption of our peace ! 
Resolve me, why the cottager and king, 
He whom sea-sever'd realms obey, and he 
Who steals his whole dominion from he waste, 
Ilei)elling wintry blasts with mud and straw, 
Disquieted alike, draw sigh for sigh. 
In Idte so distant, in complaint so near 1 

Is it that tnings terrestial can't content ? 
Deep in rich pasture will thy flocks complain 1 
Not so : but to their master is denied 
To share their sweet serene. Man, ill at ease, 
In this, not his own place, this foreign field, 
W^here nature fodders him with other food 
Than was ordain'd his cravings to suffice. 
Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast. 
Sighs on for somuthing more, when most enjoy'd. 
Is Heaven then kinder to thy flocks than thee ? 
Not so ; thy pasture richer, but remote ; 
In part remote ; for that remoter part 
Man bleats from instiiict, though, perhaps, debauch'd 
By sense, hi : reason sleeps, nor dreams the cause. 
The cause how obvious when his reason wakes ! 
His grief is but his grandeur in disguise ; 
And diicoiitent is immortality. 

Shall sons of ether, shall the blood of heaven 
Set up their hopes on earth, and .-table here, 
With brutal acquiescence in the mire 1 
Lorenzo, no I tiiey shall be nobly pain'd ; 
The glorious foreigners, distress'd, shall sigh 
On tlirones ; and thou congratulate the sigh. 
Man's misery declares him born for bliss ; 
His anxious heart asserts the truth I sing. 
And gives the sceptic in his head the lie. 

Our heads, our hearts, our passions, and our powers 
Speak the same language ; call us to the skies'; 
Unripen'd these, in tliis inclement clime. 
Scarce rise above conjecture and mistake ; 
And for this land of trifles those too strong 
Tumultuous rise, and tempest human life : 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 123 

What prize on earth can pay us for the storm 1 

Meet objects for our passions He;iven ordain'd, 

Objects that challenge all their tire, and leave 

No fault but in defect. Ble-s'd Heaven! avert 

A bounded ardor for unbounded bliss ! 

Oh for a bliss unbounded ! Far beneath 

A soul ininiortyl ii a mortal joy. 

Nor are our powers to perish immature ; 

But, after liseble elfort here, beneath 

A brighter sun, and in a nobler soil, 

Transplanted from this sublunary bed. 

Shall nourish fair, and put forth all their bloom. 

Reason progressive, instinct is complete ; 
Swift instinct leaps ; slow reason feebly climbs. 
Brutes soon their zenith reach ; their little all 
Flows in at once ; in ages they no more 
Could do, or know, or covet, or enjoy. 
Were man to live coevel with the sun, 
The patriarch pupil would be learning still , 
Yet, dying, leave his lesson half unlearn'd. 
Men perish in advance, as if the sun 
Should set, ere noon, in eastern oceans drown'd; 
If fit, with dim, illustrious to compare, 
The sun's meridian with the soul of man. 
To man, why, stepdame nature, so severe 7 
Why thrown aside thy masterpiece half wrought, 
While meaner eiforts thy last hand enjoy 1 
Or, if abortively poor man nm-ldie. 
Nor reach what reach he might, why die in dread ? 
Why cursed with foresight ? wise to misery 1 
Why of his proud prerogative the prey 1 
Why less pre-eminent in rank than pain 1 
His immortality alone can tell ; 
Full ample fund to balance all amiss. 
And turn the scale in favor of the just ! 
His immortality alone can solve 
That darkest of enigmas, human hope ; 
Of all the darkest, if at death we die. 
Hope, eager hope, th' assassin of our joy, 
All present blessings treading uuder foot, 



134 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

Is scarce a milder tyrant than de-pair. 

With no past toils content, still planning new, 

Hope turns us o'er to death alone for ease. 

Possession, why more tasteless than pursuit 1 

Why is a wish far dearer than a crown 1 

That wi<h accomplish'd, why the grave of bliss 1 

Because, in the great future, buried deep. 

Beyond our plans of empire and renown, 

Lies all that man with ardor should pursue ; 

And He who made him bent him to the right. 

Man's heart the Almighty to the future sets, 
By secret and inviolable springs ; 
And makes his hope his sublunary joy. 
Mans heart eats all things, and is hungry still ; 
" More, more ! " the glutton cries : for something new 
So rages appetite, if man can't mount, 
He will descend. He starves on the possess'd. 
Hence the world's n)aster, from ambition's spire. 
In Caprea plunged, and dived beneath the brute. 
In that rank sty why wallow'd empire's son 
Supreme 1 Because he could no higher fly ; 
His riot was ambition in despair. 

Old Rome consulted birds, Lorenzo ! thou 
With more success, the flight of hope survey ; 
Of restless hoj)e, for ever on the wing : 
High-perch'd o'er every thought that falcon sits, 
To fly at all that rises in her sight ; 
And, never stooping but to mount again ; 
Next moment, she betrays her aim's mistake. 
And owns her quarry lodged beyond the grave. 

There should it fail us, (it nuist fail us there, 
If being fails,) more mournful riddles rise, 
And virtue vies with hope in mystery. 
Why virtue 1 Where its praise, its being fled 1 
Virtue is true self-interest pursued : 
What true self-interest of quite mortal man "? 
To close with all that makes him happy here. 
If vice (as sometimes) is our friend on earth, 
Then vice is virtue ; 'tis our sov'reign good. 
T-i self-applause is virtue's golden prize ; 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 125 

N'o self-applause attemls it, on thy scheme. 
Whence self-.ippltuie ? from con-cieiice of the right. 
And what is rifi.it but means of happiue.s.s 1 
No means of happmes when virtue yields; 
That basis ftiiiiiig, falls the building too, 
And lays in ruiii every virtuous joy, 

The rigid guardian of a blameless heart, 
So long revered, so long reputed wise, 
Is weak, with rank knight-errantries o'errun. 
Why beats thy boom with illustrious dreanu 
Of sclf-expo.sure, 1 lud.ible and great ? 
Of gallant enterpri.-,e ai;d glorious death ? 
Die tor thy country ! Thou romantic tool ! 
Seize, seize the plank thyself, and let her sink : 
Thy country ! what to thee ? — The (Jodhead, what? 
(I speak with awe!) though He should bid thee bleed] 
If, with thy blood, thy-hual hope is spill'd, 
Kor can Omnipotence reward the olow : 
Be deaf; preserve thy being ; disobey. 

Nor is it disobedience. Know, Lorenzo, 
Whate'er th' ALMiGHTY's'sub>cquent conunand. 
His first command is this : — " Man, love thyself." 
In this alone free agents are not free. 
Existence is the b.isis, bliss the prize : 
If virtue cost e.\i-.tence, 'tis a criiue ; 
Bold violatior of our law supreme. 
Black suicide , though nations, which consult 
Their gain at thy e.vpense, resound applause. 

Since virtue's recompense is doubtful hero, 
If man dies vvht)lly, well may we demand, 
Why is man sutfer'd to be good in vain ? 
Why to be good in vain is mm enjoin'd ? 
Why to be good in vain is man betray'd 1 
Betray'd by traitors lodged in his own breast, 
By sweet complacencies from virtue felt? 
Why whispers nature lies on virtue's part ? 
Or if blind instinct (which as-umes the name 
Of sacred conscience) plays the fool in man. 
Why reason made accomplice in the cheat I 
Why are the wisest loudest iu her praise ] 



126 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

Can man by reason's beam be led astray 1 
Or, at his peril, imitate his God ? 
Since virtue sometimes ruins us on earth, 
Or both are true, or man survives the grave. 

Or man survives the grave, or own, Lorenzo, 
Thy boast supreme a wild absurdity. 
Dauntless thy spirit; cowards are thy scorn: 
Grant man immortal, and thy scorn is just. 
The man immortal, rationally brave. 
Dares rush on death — because he cannot die. 
But if man loses all when lite is lost 
He lives a coward, or a fool expires. 
A daring inhdel, (and such there are, 
From pride, example, lucre, rage, revenge, 
Or pure heroical defect of thought,) 
Of all earth's madmen, most deserves a chain. 

When to the grave we follow the renown'd 
For valour, virtue, science, all we love. 
And all we praise ; for wortli, whose noontide beam, 
Enabling us to think in higher style. 
Mends our ideas of ethereal powers ; 
Dream we, that lustre of the moral world 
Goes out in stench, and rottenness the close 1 
Why was he wise to know, and warm to praise. 
And strenuous to describe, in liuman life. 
The Mind Almighty 1 Could it be, that fate, 
Just when the lineaments began to shine. 
And dawn, the Deity should snatch the draught, 
With night eternal blot it out, and give 
The skies alarm, lest angels too might die? 

If human souls, why not angelic too 
Extinguish'd 1 and a solitary God, 
O'er ghastly ruin, frowning from his throne 1 
Shall we this moment gaze or God in man 1 
The next, lose man for ever in the dust 7 
From dust we disengage, or man mistakes ; 
And there, where least his judgment fears a flaw. 
Wisdom and worth, how boldly he commends ! 
Wisdom and worth are sacred names ; revered, 
Where not embraced ; applauded ; deified ! 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 127 

"Why not compission'd too 1 If spirits die, 

Both are c:iliiiiitie?, intiicted both, 

To make us Imi more wretched. Wisdom's eye, 

Acute, for what ? To spy more miseries ; 

And worth, so recompensed, new points their stings. 

Or man surmounts the prave, or g lin is loss, 

And worth exalted humbles us the more. 

Thou wilt not patronise a sciieme that makes 

Weakness and vice the refuge of m mkind. 

" Has virtue then no joys V Yes, joys dear bought. 
Talk ne'er so long in this imperfect state, 
Virtue and vice are at eteruul war. 
Virtue's a combat ; and wlio fights for nought ? 
Or for precarious, or for small reward 1 
Who virtue's self-reward so loud re<ound, 
Would take degrees angelic here below. 
And virtue, while they compliment, betray. 
By feeble motives, and unfaithful guards. 
The crown, th' unfading crown her soul inspires: 
'Tis that, and that alone cm countervail 
The body's treacheries aiul the world's assaults : 
On earth's poor pay our famish'd virtue dies. 
Truth incontestable ! in spite of all 
A Bayle has preach'd, or a Voltaire believed. 

In man, the more we dive, the more we see 
Heaven's signet stamping an immortal n»ake. 
Dive to the bottom of his soul, the base 
Sustaining all ; what tiad we ? Knowledge, love: 
As light, and heat, essential to the sun. 
These to the soul. And why, if souls expire 1 
How little lovely here 1 How little known ? 
Small knowledge we dig up with endless toil ; 
And love unfeigu'd may purchase perfect hate. 
Why starved, on earth, our angel appetites ; 
While brutal are indulged their fulsome fiUI 
Were then capacities divine conferr'd, 
As a mock diadem, in savage sport, 
Rank insult of our pompous poverty. 
Which reaps but pain, from seeing claims so fadrl 
In future age lies no redress 1 and shuts 



128 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

Eternity the door on our complaint? 
If so, for what strange ends were mortals made : 
The worst to wallow, and the best to weep ; 
The man who merits most must most complain : 
Can we conceive a disregard in Heaven, 
What the worst perpetrate, or best endure ? 

This cannot be. To love, and know, in man 
Is boundless appetite, and boundless power ; 
And these demonstrate boundless objects too. 
Objects, powers, appetites. Heaven suits in all; 
Nor, nature through, e'er violates this sweet, 
Eternal concord, on her tuneful string. 
Is man the sole excejuion from her laws'? 
Eternity struck off from human hope, 
(I speak with truth, but veneration too.) 
Wan is a monster, the rei)roach of Heaven, 
A stain, a dark impenetrable cloud 
On nature's beauteous aspect; and deforms, 
(Amazing blot !) deforms her with her lord. 
If such is man's allotment, what is Heaven ? 
Or c»wn the soul iiumortal, or blasjjheme. 

Or own the soul iuuuortal, or invert 
All order. Go, mocik-majesty ! go, man ! 
And bow to thy superiors of the stall ; 
Through every scene of sense su[)erior far: 
They graze the turf untiil'd ; they drink the stream 
Unbrew'd, and ever full, and unimbitter'd 
With doubts, fears, fruitless h(»pes, regrets, despairs. 
Mankind's peculiar ! reason's precious dower ! 
No foreign clime they ransack for their robes ; 
Nor brothers cite to the litigious bar; 
Their good is good entire, unmix'd, unmarr'd; 
They rind a paradise in every Held, 
On boughs forbidden where no curses hang; 
Their ill no more than strikes the sense ; unstretch'd 
By i)revious dread, or murnier in the rear: 
When the worst comes, it comes unfeared; one stroke 
Begins and eiuls their woe : they die but once ; 
Bless'd, incommunicable privilege ! for which 
Proud man, who rules the globe, and reads the stars, 



THE INFIDKL RECLAIMED. 129 

Philosopher, or hero, sighs in vain. 

Account for this prerogative in brutes. 
No day, no glimp--e of day, to solve the knot, 
But what beams on it from eternity. 
O sole and sweet solution ! That unties 
The ditficult, and softens the severe : 
The cloud on nature's beauteous face dispels; 
Restores bright order ; casts the brute beneath ; 
And reinthrones us in supremacy 
Of joy, even here. Admit immortal life, 
And virtue is knight-errantry no more ; 
Each virtue brings in hand a golden dower, 
Far richer in reversion : hope exults ; 
And though nmch bitter in our cup is thrown, 
I'redomiiiates, and gives the taste of heaven. 
Oh, wherefore is the Deity so kind?* 
Astonishing beyond astonishment ! 
Heaven our reward — for heaven enjoy 'd below. 

Still unsubdued thy stubborn heart ! for there 
The traitor lurks who doubts the truth I sing. 
Keason is guiltless ; will alone rebels. 
What, in that stubborn heart, if I should find 
New, unexpected witnesses against thee "? 
Ambition, pleasure, and the love of gain! 
Canst thou suspect that these, which make the soul 
The slave of earth, should own her heir of heaven 1 
Canst thou suspect what makes us disbelieve 
Our immortality, should prove it sure 1 

First, then, ambition summon to the bar. 
Ambition's shame, extravagance, disgust, 
An<l unextinguishable nature, speak. 
Each much deposes ; hear them in their turn. 

The soul, how passionately fond of fame I 
How anxious that fond passion to conceal I 
We blush, detected in designs on praise, 
Though for best deeds, and from the best of men. 
And why 1 Because inuuortal. Art divine 
Has made the body tutor to the soul ; 
Heaven kindly gives our blood a moral flow, 
Bids it ascend the glowing cheek, and there 
9 



130 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIX. 

Upbraid that little heart's inglorious aim, 
Which stoops to court a character from man ; 
While o'er us, in tremendous judgment, sit 
Far more than man with endless praise and blame. 

Ambition's boundless appetite outspeaks 
The verdict of its shame. When souls take fire 
At high presumptions of their own desert, 
One age is poor applause ; the mighty shout, 
The thunder by the living few begun, 
Late time must echo; worlds unborn, resound. 
We wish our names eternally to live : 
Wild dream ! which ne'er had haunted human 
Had not our natures been eternal too. [thought 

Instinct points out an interest in hereafter; 
But our blind reason sees not where it lies ; 
Or, seeing, gives tlie substance for the shade. 

Fame is tiie shade of inunortality, 
And in itself a shadow. J^oon as caught, 
Contem'd ; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp. 
Consult the ambitious, 'tis ambition's cure. 
" And is this all ? " cried CjBsar at his height, 
Di^^gusted. This third proof ambition brings 
Of immortality. The fir<t in fame. 
Observe him near, your envy will abate : 
Shamed at the disproportion vast, between 
The passion and the purchase, he will sigh 
At such success, and blush at his renown. 
And why ? because far richer prize invites 
His heart ; far more illustrious glory calls : 
It calls in whispers, yet the deafest hear. 

And can ambition a fourth proof supply 1 
It can, and stronger than the former three ; 
Yet quite o'erlook'd by some reputed wise. 
Though disappointments in ambition pain, 
And though success disgusts ; yet still Lorenzo, 
In vain we strive to pluck it from our hearts ; 
By nature planted for the noblest ends. 
Absurd the famed advice to Pyrrhus given, 
More praised than ponder'd ; specious, but unsound 
Sooner thai hero's sword the world had quell'd, 



f HE iNFtDEL RECLAIMED. 131 

Than reason his ambition. Man must soar. 
And obstinate activity within, 
An insupprcssive spring, will toss him up 
In spite of fortune's load. Not kings alone, 
Each villager has his ambition too; 
No sultan prouder than his fetter'd slave : 
Slaves build their little Babylons of straw, 
Echo the proud Assyrian in their hearts, 
And cry " Behold the Wonders of my might:" 
And why 1 Because immortal as their lord: 
And souls iaunortal must for ever heave 
At something great ; the glitter, or the gold ; 
The praise of mortals, or the praise of Heaven. 

Nor absolutely vain is human praise, 
When human is supported by divine. 
I'll introduce Lorenzo to himself. 
Pleasure and pride (bad masters !) share our hearts, 
As love of pleasure is ordain'd to guard 
And feed our bodies, and extend our race ! 
The love of praise i*! planted to protect. 
And propagate the glories of the mind. 
What is it, but the love of praise, inspires, 
Matures, refines, embellishes, exalts 
Earth's happiness ? From that, the delicate. 
The grand, the marvellous of civil life. 
Want, and convenience, under-workers, lay 
The basis, on which love of glory builds. 
Nor is thy life, O virtue ! less in debt 
To praise, thy secret stinmlating friend. 
Were men not proud what merit should we miss ! 
Pride made the virtues of the Pagan World. 
Praise is the salt that seasons right to man, 
And whets his appetite for moral good. 
Thirst of applause is virtue's second guard : 
Reason, her first; but reason wants an aid: 
Our private reason is a flatterer ; 
Thu-st of applause calls public judgment in, 
To poi^e our own, to keep an even scale, 
And give endanger'd virtue fairer play. 
Here a fifth proof arises, stronger still : 



132 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT Vlt. 

Why this so nice construction of our hearts 1 

These delicate moralities of sense ; 

This constitutional^ reserve of aid 

To succour virtue, when our reason fails ; 

If virtue, kept alive by care and toil. 

And oft the mark of injuries on earth, 

When labor'd to maturity (its bill 

Of disciplines and pains unpaid) must die 1 

Why freighted rich, to dash against a rock 1 

Were man to perish when most fit to live, 

Oh, how misspent were all those stratagems, 

By skill divine inwoven in our frame ! 

Where are Heaven's holiness and mercy fledl 

Laughs Heaven, at once, at virtue and at nianl 

If not, why that discouraged, this destroy'd 7 

Thus far ambition. What says avarice 1 
This her chief maxim, which has long been thine: 
" The wise and wealthy are the same." I grant it. 
To store up treasure with Ince-sant toil, 
This is man's province, this his highest praise. 
To this great end keen instinct stings him on : 
To guide that instinct, reason ! is thy charge ; 
'Tis thine to tell us where true treasure lies ; 
But, reason, foiling to discharge her trust, 
Or to the deaf discharging it in vain, 
A blunder follows ; and blind industry, 
Gall'd by the spur, but stranger to the course, 
(The course where stakes of more than gold are won, ) 
O'erloading, with the cares of di-^tant age, 
The jaded spirits of the present hour, 
Provides for an eternity below. 

" Thou Shalt not covet," is a wise command ; 
But bounded to the wealth the sun surveys : 
Look further, the command stands quite reversed, 
And avarice is a virtue most divine. 
Is faith a refuge for our happiness 1 
Most sure : and is it not for reason too "? 
Nothing this world unriddles, but the next. 
Whence unextinguishable thirst of gain? 
From unexlingaishable life in man. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 133 

Man, if not meant, by worth, to reach the skies, 
Had wanted wing to fly so far in guilt. 
Sour grapes, I grant, ambition, avarice; 
Yet stiil their root is immortality. 
These its wild growths, so bitter and so base, 
(Pain and reproach 1) religion can reclaim, 
Refine, exalt, throw down the poisonous lee, 
And make them sparkle in the bowl of bliss. 

See, the third witness laughs at bliss remote, 
And falsely promises an Eden here : 
Truth she shall speak for once, though prone to lie, 
A common cheat, and Pleasure is her name. 
To pleasure never was Lorenzo deaf; 
Then hear her now, now first thy real friend. 

Since nature made us not more fond than proud 
Of happiness, (whence hypocrites in joy!) 
Makers of mirth ! artificers of smiles ! 
Why should the joy most poignant sense affords 
Burn us with blushes, and rebuke our pride 1 — 
Those heaven-born blushes tell us, man descends. 
E'en in the zenith of his earthly bliss : 
Should reason take her infidel repose, 
This honest instinct speaks our lineage high ; 
This instinct calls on darkness to conceal 
Our rajjiurous relation to the stalls. 
Our glory covers us with noble shame, 
And he that's unconfounded is unmann'd. 
The man that blushes is not quite a brute. 
Thus far with thee, Lorenzo, will I close : 
Pleasure is good, and man for pleasure made ; 
But pleasure full of glory, as of joy ; 
Pleasure, which neither blushes nor expires. 

The witnesses are heard ; the cause is o'er : 
Let conscience file the sentence in her court, 
Dearer than deeds that half a realm convey : 
Thus seal'd by truth, th' authentic record runs: 

'• Know, all ; know, infidels, — unapt to know ! 
'Tis immortality your nature solves ; 
•Tis immortality deciphers man, 
Aud opens all the myst'ries of his make. 



J34 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

Without it, h-alf his instincts are a riddle ; 
Without it, all his virtues are a dream. 
His very crimes attest his dig;nity ; 
His sateless thirst of pleasure, gold, and fame, 
Declares him born for blessings infinite : 
What less than infinite makes vinabsurd 
Passions, which all on earth but more inflames? 
Fierce passions, so mismeasured to this scene, 
Stretch'd out, like eagles' wings, beyond our nest, 
Far, far beyond the worth of all below. 
For earth too large, presage a nobler flight, 
And evidence our title to the skies." 

Ye gentle iheoiogues, of calmer kind ! 
Whose constitution dictates to your pen ; 
Who, cold yourselves, think ardor comes from hell ! 
Think not our passions from corruption sprung, 
Though to corruption now they lend their wings ; 
That is their mistress, not their mother. All 
(And justly) reason deem divine : I see, 
I feel a grandeur in the passions too, 
Which speaks their high descent, their glorious end ; 
Which speaks them rays of an eternal fire. 
In Paradise itself they burn'd as strong. 
Ere Adam fell ; though wiser in their aim. 
Like the proud Eastern, struck by Providence, 
What though our passions are run mad, and stoop 
With low terrestial appetite, to graze 
On trash, on toys, dethroned from high desire "? 
Yet still, through their disgrace, no feeble ray 
Of greatness shines, and tells us whence they fell: 
But these, (like that fallen ij»onarch when reclaim'd,) 
When reason moderates the rein aright. 
Shall reascend, remount their former sphere. 
Where once they soar'd illustrious ; ere seduced 
By wanton Eve's debauch, to stroll on earth, 
And set the sublunary world on fire. 

But grant their frenzy lasts ; their frenzy fails 
To disappoint one providential end. 
For which Heaven blew up ardor in our hearts : 
W^re reason silent, boundless passion speaks 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 135 

A future scene of boundless objects too, 

And bring-i glad tidin'^.s of eternal day. 

Eternal day ! 'tis that enlij;htens all ; 

And all, by that eniiKhieu'd, proves it sure. 

Consider man as an immort il being, 

Intelligible all ; and all is great; 

A crystalline transparency prevails, 

And strikes full lustre through the human sphere: 

Consider man as mortal, ail is dark, 

And wretched; reason weeps at the survey. 

The learn'd Lorenzo cries, "And let her weep, 
Weak modern reason ; ancient times were wise. 
Authority, that venerable guide, 
Stands on my part; the famed Athenian porch 
(And who for wisdom so renown'd as they 1) 
Denied this immortality to man." 
I grant it, but afhrm, they proved it too. 
A riddle, this ? — Have patience ; I'll explain. 

What noble vanities, what moral flights. 
Glittering through their romantic wisdom's page, 
Make us at once, despise them and admire 1 
Fable is flat to these higli-season'd sires ; 
They leave the extravagance of song below. 
" Flesh shall not feel ; or, feeling, shall enjoy 
The danger or the rack ; to them, alike 
A bed of roses, or the burning bull." 
In men expb)ding all beyond the grave, 
Strange doctrine this ! As doctrine it was strange! 
But not, as prophecy ; for such it proved, 
And, to their own amazement, was fultill'd : 
They feign'd a flrmness Christans need not feign. 
The Christian truly triumph'd in the flame : 
The Stoic saw, in double wonder lost. 
Wonder at them, and wonder at himself. 
To And the bold adventures of his thought 
Kot bold, and that he strove to lie in vain. 

Whence, then, those thoughts I those towering 
thoughts, that flew 
Such monstrous heights 1 From instinct and from 
The glorious instinct of a deathless soul, [pride, 



136 THE COMPLATXT. NIGHT VII. 

Confusedly conf5cious of her dignity, 
Suggested truths they could not understand. 
In lust's dominion, and in passion's storm, 
Truth's system broken, scatter'd fragments lay, 
As light in chaos, glimmering through the gloom : 
Smit with the pomp of lofty sentiments. 
Pleased pride proclaim'd, what reason disbelieved. 
Pride, like the Delphic priestess, with a swell, 
Kaved nonsense, destined to be future sense. 
When life immortal, in full day, should shine ; 
And death's dark shadows fly the Gospel sun. 
They spoke, what nothing but immortal souls 
Could speak ; and thus the truth they question'd 

Can then absurdities, as well as crimes, [proved. 
Speak man immortal"? All things speak him so. 
Much has been urged ; and dost thou call for more 1 
Call ; and with endless questions be distress'd, 
All unresolvable, if earth is all. 

" Why life, a moment 1 infinite, desire 1 
Our wish, eternity 1 our home, the grave 1 
Heaven's promise dormant lies in human hope ; 
Who wishes life immortal proves it too. 
Why happiness pursued, though never found 1 
Man's thirst of happiness declares it. is ; 
(For nature never gravitates to nought :) 
That thirst, unquench'd declares it is not here. 
My Lucia, thy Clarissa call to thought ; v 
Why cordial friendship riveted so deep. 
As hearts, to pierce at first, at parting, rend, 
If friend and friendship vanish in an hour 1 
Is not this torment in the mask of joy ? 
Why by reflection marr'd the joys of sense 1 
Why past and future preying on our hearts, 
And putting all our present joys to death 1 
Why labors reason 1 Instinct were as well ! 
Instinct far better ; what can choose can err: 
Oh, how infallible the thoughtless brute ! 
'Twere well his Holiness were half as sure. 
Reason with inclination, why at war ? 
Why sense of guilt 1 why conscience up in arms % 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 13f 

Conscience of guilt is prophecy of pain, 
And bosoHi-counsel to decline the blow. 
Reason with inclination ne'er had jarr'd, 
If notliing future paid forbearance here : 
Thus on— these, a thousand pleas uncall'd, 
All proniise, some ensure a second scene ; 
Which, were it doubtful, would be dearer far 
Than all things else most certain ; were it false, 
What truth on earth so precious as the lie 1 
This world it gives us, let what will ensue ; 
This world it gives, in that high cordial, hope : 
The future of the present is the soul. 
How this life groans, when sever'd from the next! 
Poor mutilated wretch, that disbelieves ! 
By dark distrust his being cut in two, 
In both parts perishes ; life void of joy, 
Sad prelude of eternity in pain ! 

Couldst thou persuade me, the next life could fail 
Our ardent wishes ; how should I pour out 
My bleeding heart in anguish, new as deep ! 
Oh ! with what thoughts, thy hope, and my despair, 
Abhorr'd annihilation ! blasts the soul, 
And wide extends the bounds of human woe ! 
Could I believe Lorenzo's system true, 
In this black channel would my ravings run: 

"Grief from the future borrow 'd peace, erewhile, 
The future vanish'd ! and the present pain'd ! 
Strange import of unprecedented ill I 
Fall, how profound ! like Lucifer's, the fall ! 
Unequal fate ! his fall, without his guilt ! 
From where fond hope built her pavilion high. 
The gods among, hurl'd headlong, hurl'd at once 
To night ! to nothing : darker still than night ! 
If 'twas a dream, wliy wake nie, my worst foe, 
Lorenzo, boastful of the name of triend ! 
Oh for delusion ! Oh for error still I 
Could vengeance strike much stronger than to plant 
A thinking being in a world like this, 
Not over rich before, now beggar'd quite ; 
More cursed than at the fall 7 the sun goes out I 



138 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

The thorns shoot up ! what thorns in every thought ! 
Why sense of better 1 It embitters worse. 
Why sense 1 why life ? if but to sigh, then sink 
To what I was ? Twice nothing ! and much woe ! 
Woe, from Heaven's bounties ! woe from what was 
To flatter most, high intellectual powers ! [wont 

" Thought, virtue, knowledge ! blessings, by thy 
scheme 
All poison'd into pains. First, knowledge, once 
My soul's ambition, now her greatest dread. 
To know myself, true wisdom 1 No, to shun 
That shocking science, parent of despair ! 
Avert thy mirror : if I see, I die. 

" Know my Creator ! climb this bless'd abode 
By painful speculation, pierce the veil, 
Dive in his nature, read his attributes, 
And gaze in admiration — on a foe, 
Obtruding life, withholding happiness ! 
From the full rivers that surround his throne, 
Not letting fall one drop of joy on man ; 
Man gasping for one drop that he might cease 
To curse his birth, nor envy reptiles more ! 
Ye sable clouds ! ye darkest shades of night! 
Hide him, for ever hide him from my thought ! 
Once all my comfort ; source and soul of joy ! 
Now leagued with furies, and with thee*, against me. 
" Know his achievements I study his renown I 
Contemplate this amazing universe. 
Dropp'd fioni his hand, with miracles replete) 
For what ? 'Mid miracles of nobler name, 
To find one miracle of misery? 
To find the being which alone can know 
And praise his works, a blemish on his praise 1 
Through nature's ample range, in thought to stroll, 
And start at man, the single mourner there, [death 1 
Breathing high hope, chain'd down to pangs and 

" Knowing is sufiering : and shall virtue share 
The sigh of knowledge 7 Virtue shares the sigh. 
By straining up the steep of excellent, 

♦Lorenzo. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 139 

By battles fought, and from temptation won, 
What gains she, but the pang of seeing worth, 
Angelic worth, soon shuffled in the dark 
With every vice, and swept to brutal dust? 
Merit is madness ; virtue is a crime ; 
A crime to reason, if it costs us pain 
Unpaid. What pain, amidst a thousand more, 
To think the most abandon'd, after days 
Of triumph o'er their betters, find in death 
As soft a pillow, nor make fouler clay ! 

" Duty ! Religion I These, our duty done, 

Imply reward. Religion is mistake. 

Duty ! There's none, but to repel the cheat. 

Ye cheats, away ! ye daughters of my pride ! 

Who feign yourselves the fav'rites of the skies : 

Ye towering hopes ! abortive energies ! 

That toss, and struggle, in my lying breast, 

To scale the skies, and build presumptions there. 

As I were heir of an eternity. 

Vain, vain ambitions ! trouble me no more. 

Why travel far in quest of sure defeat 1 

As bounded as my being be my wish. 

All is inverted ; wisdom is a fool. 

Sense ! take the rein ; blind passion ! drive us on ; 

And ignorance ! befriend us on our way ; 

Ye new, but truest patrons of our peace ! 

Yes ; give the pulse full empire ; live the brute, 

Since, as the brute, we die. The sum of man. 

Of godlike man ! to revel, and to rot. 

" But not on equal terms with other brutes : 
Their revels a more poignant relish yield. 
And safer too ! they never poisons choose. 
Instinct than reason makes more wholesome meals, 
And send") all-marring murnier far away. 
For sensual life they best philosophize ; 
Theirs, that serene the sages sought in vain : 
'Tis man alone expostulates with Heaven; 
His all the power and all the cause to mourn. 
Shall huMUin eyes alone dissolve in tears 1 
And bleed in anguish, none but huntan hearts 1 



140 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT TH. 

The wide-stretch'd realm of intellectual woe, 
Surpassing sensual far is all our own. 
In life so fatally distinguish'd, why- 
Cast in one lot, confounded, lump'd in death ? 

" Ere yet in being, was mankind in guilt 1 
Why thunder'd this peculiar clause against us, 
All mortal, and all wretched ? Have the skies 
Reasons of state their subjects may not scan, 
Nor humbly reason, when they sorely sigh 1 
All mortal, and all wretched ! 'Tis too much; 
Unparallel'd in nature : 'tis too much ; 
On being unrequestedat tliy hands, 
Omnipotent ! for I see nought but power. 

" And why see that "? why thought "? to toil and ea^, 
Then make our bed in darkness, needs no thought. 
What superfluities are reasoning souls ! 
Oh, give eternity ! or thought destroy ! 
But without thought our curse were half unfelt ; 
Its blunted edge would spare the throbbing heart ; 
And, therefore, 'tis bestow'd. I thank thee, reason ! 
For aiding life's too small calamities. 
And giving being to the dread of death. 
Such are thy bounties ! — Was it then too much 
For me to trespass on the brutal rights 1 
Too much for Heaven to make one emmet more 1 
Too much for chaos to permit my mass 
A longer stay with essences un wrought, 
Unfashion'd, untormented into manl 
Wretched preferment to this round of pains ! 
Wretched capacity of frenzy, thought! 
Wretched capacity of dying, lifie ! 
Life, thought, worth, wisdom, all, (Oh foul revolt !) 
Once friends to peace, gone over to the foe. 

" Death then has changed its nature too : O death ! 
Come to my bosom thou best gilt of Heaven ! 
Best friend of man ! since man is man no more. 
Why in this thorny wilderness so long. 
Since there's no promised land's ambrosial bower, 
To pay me with its honey for my stings 1 
Jf needful to the selfish schemes of Heaven 



The iNFIDEt RECLAIMED. 141 

"To sting us sore, why mock'd our misery ! 
Why this so sninptuoas insult o'er our heads 1 
Why this illustrious canopy display'd 1 
Why so magnificently lodged despair 1 
At stated periods, sure returning, roll 
These glorious orbs, that mortals may compute 
Their length of labors and of pains ; nor lose 
Their misery's full measure 1 Smiles with flowers, 
And fruits, promiscuous, ever teeming earth, 
That man may languish in luxurious scenes, 
And in an Eden mourn his wither'd joys 1 
Claim earth and skies man's admiration, due 
For such delights ! Bless'd animals ! too wise 
To wonder, and too happy to complain ! 

" Our doom decreed demands a mournful scene : 
W'hy not a dungeon dark, for tlie condemn'd 1 
W^hy not the dragon's subterranean den. 
For man to howl in 7 why not his abode 
Of the same disnial color with his fate 1 
A Thebes, a Babylon, at vast expense 
Of time, toil, treasure, art, for owls and adders, 
As congruous as, for man this lofty dome, [sire ; 

Which prompts proud thought, and kindles higli de- 
If, from her humble chamber in the dust. 
While proud thought swells, and high desire inflames, 
The poor worm calls us for her inmates there : 
And, round us, death's inexorable hand 
Draws the dark curtain close ; undrawn no more. 

" Undrawn no more ! behind the cloud of death. 
Once, 1 beheld a sun ; a sun which gilt 
That sable cloud, and turned it all to gold. 
How tlie grave's altered I fathomless as hell I 
A real hell to those who dreamed of heaven, 
Annihilation ! how it yawns before me ! 
Next moment I may drop from thought, from 
The privilege of angels, and of worms, 
An outcast from existence I and this spirit, 
This all-pervading, this all-conscious soul. 
This particle of energy divine, 
Which travels nature, flies f.ora star to star, 



142 Tiifc COMPLAINT. meat vti 

And visits gods, and eimilates their powers, 

For ever is e.\tin;u:ui.sh'd. Horror ! death ! 

Death of that deatli I tearless once siirvey'd ! — 

When horror universal shall descend, 

And heaven's dark concave urn all human race, 

On that enonnous, unrefiinding tomb, 

How just this verse ! this monuntental sigh ! '* 

Beneath the lumber of demolish'd worlds, 
Deep in the rubbish of the general wreck. 
Swept ignominious to the common mass 
Of matter never dignified with life, 
Here lie proud rationale ; the sons of Heaven! 
The lords of earth ! the property of worms ! 
Beings of yesterday, and not to-morrow ! 
Who lived in terror, and in pangs expired ! 
All gone to rot in Chaos ; or, to make 
Their happy transit into blocks or brutes, 
IiJor longer sully their Creator's name. 

Lorenzo ! hear, pause, wonder, and pronounce* 
Just is this history ? If such is man. 
Mankind's historian, though divine, might weep. 
And dares Lorenzo su)ile ! — I know thee proud ; 
For once let pride befriend thee : pride looks pale 
At such a scene, and sighs for something more. 
Amid thy boasts, presumptuous, and displays, 
And art thou then a shadow 1 less than shade 1 
And nothing ? less than nothing 1 To have been. 
And not to be, is lower than unborn. 
Art thou ambitious 1 Why then make the worm 
Thine equal ? Runs thy taste of pleasure high ? 
Why patronize sure death of every joy 1 
Charm riches 1 Why choose begg'ry in the grave, 
Of every hope a bankrupt ! and for ever 1 
Ambition, pleasure, avarice persuade thee 
To make that world of glory, rapture, wealth, 
They* lately proved thy soul's supreme desire. 

• In the Sixth Night. 



THE INPlDEIi RECLAIMED. 143 

What art thou made of? Rather, how unmade 1 
Great nature's master appetite deuroy'd ! 
Is endless life and happmeis despi-ieil? 
Or both wish'd here, where neither can be found 1 
Such man's pervere, eternal war with Heaven! 
Barest thou per.<ist 1 And is there nought on earth, 
But a long train of transitory forms, 
Rising, and breaking, millions in an hour 1 
Bubbles of a fantastic deity, blown np 
/ In sport, and then in cruelty destroy 'd ? 
Oh! for what crime, unmerciful Lorkvzo! 
Destroys thy scheme the whole of human race 1 
Kind is fell Lucifek, compared to thee : 
Oh ! spare this waste of being half divine ; 
And vindicate t!i' economy of Heaven. 

Heaven is all love ; all joy in giving joy ; 
It never had created, but to bless: 
And shall it then strike off the list of life 
A being bless'd, or worthy so to be 1 
Heaven starts at an annihilating God. 

Is that all nature starts at, thy desire ? 
Art such a clod, to wish thyself all clay "? 
What is that dreadful wish 1 Tlie dying groan 
Of nature, nuirdered by the blackest guilt. 
What deadly poison has thy nature drunk? 
To nature, undebauch'd, no shock so great ; 
Nature's first wish is endless happiness ; 
Annihilation is an after-thought, 
A monstrous wish, unborn till virtue dies. 
And, oh ! what depth of horror lies enclosed J 
For non-existence no man ever wish'd, 
But, first, he wish'd the Deity destroy'd. 

If so, what words are dark enough to draw 
Thy picture true ? The darkest are too fair. 
Beneath what baleful planet, in what hour 
Of desperation, by what fury's aid, 
In what infernal posture of the soul, 
All hell invited, and all hell in joy 
At such a birth, a birth so near of kin. 
Did thy foul fancy whelp so black a scheme 



144 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT Vlt. 

Of hopes abortive, faculties half blown, 
And deities begun, reduced to <hist ? 

There's nought (tliou say'st) but one eternal flux 
Of feeble essences, tumultuous driven 
Through time's rough billows into night's abyss. 
Say, in this rapid tide of human ruin, 
Is there no rock, on which man's tossing thought 
Can rest from terror, dare liis fate survey, 
And boldly think it something to be born 1 
Amid sucli hourly wrecks of being fair, 
Is there no central, all-sustaining base, 
All realizing, all connecting puwer. 
Which, as it call'd forth all things, can recall, 
And force destruction to refund her spoil 1 
Command the grave restore her taken prey 1 
Bid death's dark vale its human harvest yield, 
And earth and ocean pay their debt of man, 
True to the grand deposit trusted there 7 
Is there no potentate, whose outstretch'd arm. 
When ripening time calls forth th' appointed hour 
Pluck'd from foul devastation's famish'd maw, 
Binds present, past, and future to his throne 1 
His throne how glorious, thus diyinely graced, 
By germinating beings clustering round ! 
A garland worthy the Divinity ! 
A throne, by Heaven's omnipotence in smiles, 
Built (like a Pharos towering in the waves) 
Amidst immense ctFusions of his love ! 
An ocean of contnumicated bliss ! 

An all-proliric, all-preserving God ! 
This were a God indeed. And such is man, 
As here presumed : he rises from his fall. 
Think'st thou Onniipotence a naked root, 
Each blossom fair of Deity destroy'd 1 
Nothing is dead : nay, nothing sleeps : each soul. 
That ever animated human clay. 
Now wakes : is on the wing : and where. Oh where 
Will the swarm settle 1 — When the trumpet's call, 
As sounding brass, collects us round Heaven's throne 
Coaglobed, we ba.ik in everlasting day, 



THE INFIDEl, RECLAIMED. 145 

(Paternnl splendor!) and adhere forever. 
Ilad not the soul this oiulet to the skies, 
111 this vast vessel of the universe, 
How should we |^as|)as in an empty void ! 
How in the pings of faniisli'd hope expire! 

How hriglit my prospect shines I how frloomy thine ! 
A treiiihling world I aiul a devourinjy; god ! 
j!^arth, but the shambles of ()mni|)iitence I 
Heaven's tace all stain'd with causeless massacres 
Of countless millions, born to feel the pang 
Of being h)st. Lorknzo ! can it be ? 
This bids us shudder at the thoughts of life. 
Who would be born to such a phantom world, 
Where nougiit substantial but our misery ? 
Where joy (if joy) but heightens our distress, 
So soon to perish, and revive no more ? 
The greater such a joy, the more it pains. 
A world so far from great (and yet how great 
It shines to thee I) there's nothing real in it; 
Being, a shadow ! consciousness, a dream ! 
A dream, how dreadful I universal blank 
Before it and behind ! Poor man, a spark 
From non-existence struck by wrath divine; 
Glittering a moment, nor that moment sure ; 
'Midst upper, nether, and surrounding night. 
His sad, sure, sudden, and eternal tomb I 

Lorenzo, dost thou feel these arguments 1 
Or is there nought but vengeance can be felt 1 
How hast thou dared the Deity dethrone 1 
How dared inilict him of a world like this ? 
If such the \\orld, creation was a crime ; 
For what is crime but cause of misery 1 
Retract, blasphemer I and unriddle this, 
Of endless arguments, above, below, 
Without us, and within, the short result — 
" If man's immortal, there's a God in heaven." 

But wherefore such redundancy, such waste 
Of argument 1 One sets my soul at rest ! 
One obvious, and at hand, and, oh ! — at heart : 
So just the skies, Philandee's life so pain'd, 
10 



146 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

His heart so pure ; that, or succeedhig scenes 
Have pahiis to give, or ne'er had he been born, 

" What an old tale is this ! " Lorenzo cries. 
I grant this argument is old ; but truth 
No years impair : and had not this been true, 
Thou never hadst despised it for its age. 
Trutli is immortal as thy* soul ; and fable 
As fleeting as thy joys. Be wise, nor make 
Heaven's highest blessings vengeance ; Oh, be wise ! 
Nor make a curse of immortality. 

Say, know'st thou what it is, or what thou art 1 
Know'st thou the importance of a soul immortail 
Behold this midnight glory : worlds on worlds ! 
Amazing pomp ! redouble this amaze ; 
Ten thoa-ind add ; and twice ten thousand more ; 
Then weigh the whole ! one soul outweighs them all ; 
And calls th' a tuiii-hiug magnificence 
Of unintelligent creation, poor. 

For this believe not me ; no man believe : 
Trust not in words, but deeds ; and deeds no less 
Than those of the Suprkme ; nor his a few ; 
Consult them all ; consulted, all proclaim 
Thy soul's import;ince. Tremble at thyself; 
For whom Omnipotence has waked so long : 
Has waked, and work'd for ages ; from the birth 
Of nature to this unbelieving hour. 

In this small province of His vast domain, 
(All nature bow, while I pronounce His name !) 
What has God done, and not for this sole end. 
To rescue souls from death ? The soul's high price 
Is writ in all the conduct of the skies. 
The soul's high price is the creation's key, 
Unlocks its mysteries, and naked lays 
The genuine cause of every deed divine: 
That, is the chain of ages, which maintains 
Their obvious correspondence, and unites 
Most distant periods in one bless'd design : 
That, is the mighty hinge, on which have turn'd 
AH revolutions, whether we regard 
The natural, civil, or religious world ; 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 147 

The former two but servants to the third : 
To that their duty done, they both expire ; 
Their mass new-cast, forgot their deeds renown'd; 
And angels ask, " where once they shone so fair 7" 

To lift us from this abject, to sublime ; 
This flux, to permanent ; this dark, to day ; 
This foul, to ))ure ; this turbid, to serene ; 
This mean, to mighty ! — for this glorious end 
Til' Almighty, rising, his long sabbath broke! 
The world was made ; was ruin'd ; was restor'd ; 
Laws from the skies were publish'd ; were repeal'd ; 
On earth, kings, kingdoms rose ; kings, kingdoms fell ; 
Famed sages lighted up the Pagan world ; 
Prophets from Sion darted a keen glance 
Through distant age ; saints travell'd ; martyrs bled ; 
By wonders, sacred nature stood control I'd ; 
The living were translated ; dead were raised ; 
Angels, and more than angels, came from heaven ; 
And, oh ! for this, descended lower still ! 
Gilt was hell's gloom ; astoni-h'd at his guest, 
For one short moment Lucifkr adored ; 
Lorenzo! and wilt thou do less 1 — For this, 
That hallowed page, fools scoff at, was inspired, 
Of all these truths thrice venerable code ! 
Deists ! perform your quarantine ; and then 
Fall prostrate, ere you touch it, lest you die. 

Nor less intensely bent infernal powers 
To mar, than those of light this end to gain. 
Oh what a scene is here ! — Lorenzo, wake ! 
Rise to the thought ; exert, expand thy soul 
To take the vast idea ; it denies 
All else the name of great. Two warring worlds ! 
Not Europe against Afric ; warring worlds, 
Of more than mortal ! mounted on the wing! 
On ardent wings of energy and zeal. 
High-hovering o'er this little brand of strife ! 
This sublunary ball. But strife, for what ? 
In their own cause conflicting 7 No; in thine, 
In nian's. His single intereU blows the fiame ; 
His the sole stake ; his fate the trumpet sounds, 



148 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIl. 

Which kindles war iminorttil. How it burns ! 

Tumultuous swarms of deities in arms : 

Force force opposing, till the waves run high, 

And tempest nature's universal sphere. 

'Such opposite^ eternal, steadfast, stern. 

Such foes implacable, are Good and 111 ; [them. 

Yet man, vain man, would mediate peace between 

Think not this fiction, " There was war in heaven." 
From heaven's high crystal mountain, where it hung, 
Th' Almighty's outstretch'd arm took down his 
And shot his indignation at the deep : [bow, 

Re-thunder'd hell, and darted ail her fires. — 
And seems the stake of little moment still 1 
And slumbers man, who singly caused the storm 1 
He sleeps. And art thou shock'd at mysteries ? 
The greatest, thou. How dreadful to reflect, 
What ardour, care, and counsel mortals cause 
In breasts divine ! how little in their own ! 

Where'er 1 turn, how new proofs pour upon me! 
How happily this wondrous view supports 
My former argument ! How strongly strikes 
Immortal life's full demonstration, here ! 
Why this exertion 1 Why this strange regard 
From heaven's Omnipotent indulged to man 1 
Because, in man, the glorious, dreadful power, 
Extremely to be pain'd, or bless'd, for ever. 
Duration gives importance, swells the price. 
An angel, if a creature of a day. 
What would he be 7 A trifle of no weight ; 
Or stand or fall ; no matter which ; he's gone. 
Because immortal, therefore is indulged 
This strange regard of deities to dust. 
Hence, heaven looks down on earth with all her eyes 
Hence, the soul's mighty moment in her sight : 
Hence, every soul has partisans above, 
And every thought a critic in the skies : 
Hence clay, vile clay ! has angels for its guard, 
And every guard a passion for its charge : 
Hence, from all age, the cabinet divine 
Has held high counsel o'er the fate of man. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 149 

Nor have the clouds those gracious counsels hid. 
Angels unilrew the curtiin of the throne, 
And Providence came forth to meet mankind". 
In various modes of emphasis and awe, 
He spoke his will, and trembling nature heard: 
He spoke it loud, in thunder and in storm. 
Witness, thou Sinai I whose cloud-cover'd height, 
And shaken basis, own'd the present Gqd : 
Witness, ye billows I whose returning tide, 
Breaking the chain that fasten'd it in air, 
Swept tgypt and her menaces to hell : 
Witness, ye flames ! th' Assyrian tyrant blew 
To sevenfold rage, as impotent as strong : 
And thou, earth ! witness, whose expanding jaws 
Closed o'er presumption's sacrilegious sons.* 
Has not each element, in turn, subscribed 
The soul's high price, and sworn it to the wise 1 
Has not flame, ocean, ether, earthquake, strove 
To strike this truth through adamantine man 1 
If not all adamant, Lokenzo 1 hear: 
All is delusion; nature is wrapp'd up. 
In tenfold night, from reason's keenest eye ; 
There's no con-^istence, meaning, plan or end, 
In all beneath the sun, in all above 
(As far as man can penetrate,) or heaven 
Is an immense, inestimable prize. 
Or all is nothing, or that prize is all. 
And shall each toy be still a match for heaven, 
And full equivalent for groans below 1 
W^ho would not give a trifle to prevent. 
What he would give a thousand worlds to cure 1 

Lorenzo ! thou hast seen (if thine to see) 
All nature, and her God (by nature's course. 
And nature's course controU'd) declare for me : 
The skies above proclaim, " Inunortal man ! " 
And, " Man immortal ! " all below resounds. 
The world's a system of theology. 
Read by the greatest strangers to the schools : 
If honest, learn'd ; and sages o'er a plough. 

*KORAH, &C. 



150 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

Is not Lorenzo, then, iinposed on thee 
This hard alternative ; or, to renounce 
Thy reason and thy sense : or to believe "? 
What then is unbeiiet? 'Tis an exploit; 
A strenuous enterpri e : to gain it, man 
Must burst through every bar of coiiunon sense, 
Of conunon shame, magnanimously wrong. 
And what rewards the sturdy combatant 7 
His prize, repentance ; infamy, his crown. 

But wherefore infamy ? for want of faith, 
Down the deep precipice of wrong he slides ; 
There's notliing to support him in the right. 
Faith in the future wanting, is, at least 
In embryo, every weakness, every guilt; 
And strong temptation rij)ens it to birth. 
If this life's gain invites hiin to the deed, 
Why not his country sold, his fatlier slain 1 
'Tis virtue to pursue our good supreme ; 
And his supreme, his only good is here. 
Ambition, avarice, by the wise disdain'd, 
Is perfect wisdom, while mankind are fools. 
And think a turf or tombstone covers all : 
These lind employment, and provide for sense 
A richer pasture, and a larger range ; 
And sense by right divine ascends the throne, 
When virtue's i)rize and prospect are no more ; 
Virtue no more we think the will of Heaven. 
Would Heaven quite beggar virtue, if beloved 1 

" Has virtue charms 1" I grant her heavenly fair: 
But if unportion'd, all will interest wed ; 
Though that our admiration, this our choice. 
The virtues grow on immortality ; 
That root de^troy'd, they wither and expire. 
A Deity believed will nought avail ; 
Rewards and punishments make God adored ; 
And hopes and fears give conscience all her power. 
As in the dying parent dies the child, 
Virtue, with immortality, expires. 
Who tells me he denies his soul immortal, 
Whate'er his boast, has told me, he's a knave. 



THK INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 151 

His duty, 'tis to love him -elf alone ; 
Nor care, thoiisrh m inkind perish, if he smiles. 
Who think< ere iosig tlie mnn shall wholly die, 
Is dead alrciuly ; nought but brute survives. 

And are there such .' Such candidates there are 
For more than death ; for utter lois of being; 
Being the basis of the Deity ! 
Ask you the cause 1 The cause they will not tell; 
Nor need they : oh the sorceries of sense ! 
They work this transformation on the soul ; 
Dismount her. like the serj)ent at the fall, 
Dismount her from her native wing, (which soar'd 
Erewhile ethereal heights,) and throw her down, 
To lick the du<t, and crawl in such a thought. 

Is it in words to paint you ? O ye fallen ! 
Fallen from the wings of reason and of hope '. 
Erect in stature, prone in appetite I 
Patrons of pleasure, posting into pain ! 
Lovers of argument, averse to sense ! 
Boasters of liberty, fast bound in chains ! 
Lords of the wide creation, and the shame ! 
More senseless than th' irrational-? you scorn ! 
More base than those you rule ! than those you pity, 
Far more undone ! O ye most infamous 
Of beings, from superior dignity 1 
Deepe-t in woe, from means of boundless bliss ! 
Ye cursed by blessings infinite I because 
Most highly favor'd, most profoundly lost! 
Ye motley mass of contradiction strong ! 
And are you, too, convinced, your souls fly off 
In exhalation soft, and die in air. 
From the full flood of evidence against you 1 
In the coarse drudgeries and sinks of sense. 
Your souls have quite worn out the make of Heaven, 
By vice new cast, and creatures of your own : 
But though you can deform, you can't destroy ; 
To curse, not uncreate, is all your power. 

LoRKNZo ! this black brotherhood renounce ; 
Renounce St. Evremont, and read St. Paul. 
Ere rapt by ijiiracle, by reason wing'd, 



152 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

His monnting; mind made long abode in heaven. 
This is freetliinking, uticontiacd to parts, 
To send the soul, on curious travel bent, 
Through all the provinces of human thought: 
To dart her flight through the whole sphere of man ; 
Of this vast universe to make the tour ; 
In each recess of space and time, at home ; 
Familiar with their wonders ; diving deep ; 
And, like a prince of boundle-ss interests there, 
Still most ambitious of the most remote ; 
To look on truth unbroken, and entire ; 
Truth in the system, the full orb ; where truths 
By truths enlighten'd, and sustain'd, alford 
An arch-like, strong foundation, to support 
Th' incumbent weight of absolute, complete 
Conviction : here, the more we press, we stand 
More firm ; who most examine, most believe. 
Parts, like half-sentences, confound ; the whole 
Conveys the sense, and God is understood; 
Who not in fragments writes to human race : 
Read his whole volume, sceptic! then reply. 

This, this is thinking free, a thought that grasps 
Beyond a grain, and looks beyond an hour. 
Turn up thine eye, survey this midnight scene ; 
What are earth's kingdoms to yon boundless orbs, 
Of human souls one day the destined range ! 
And what yon boundless orbs to godlike man? 
Those numerous worlds that throng the firmament, 
And ask more space in heaven, can roll at large 
In man's capacious thought, and still leave room 
For ampler orbs ; for new creations there. 
Can such a soul contract itself to gripe 
A point of no dimension, of no weight 1 
It can : it does ; the world is such a point ; 
And, of that point, how small a part enslaves ! 

How small a part — of nothing, shall I say 1 
Why not 1 — Friends, our chief treasure, how they 
Lucia, Narcissa fair. Philander, gone ! [drop 1 
The grave, like fabled Cerberus, has oped 
A triple mouth ; and, in an awful voice, 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 153 

Loud calls my soul, and utters all T sing. 
How the world falls to pieces round about us, 
And leaves us in a ruin of our joy ! 
What says this transportation of my friends 1 
It bids me love the place where now they dwell, 
And scorn this wretched spot liiey leave so poor. 
Eternity's vast ocean lies before thee ; 
There, there, Lorknzo ! thy Clarissa sails. 
Give thy mind sea-room ; keep it wide of earth, 
That rock of souls iuuuortal ; cut thy cord ; 
Weigh anchor ; spread thy sails ; call every wind; 
Eye thy great Pole-star ; make the land of life. 

Two kmds of life has double-natured man, 
And two of death ; the last tar more severe. 
Life animal is nurtured by the sun ; 
Thrives on his bounties, triumphs in his beams. 
Life rational subsists on higher food, 
Triumphant in His beams who made the day. 
When we leave that sun, and are left by this, 
(The fate of all who die in stubborn guilt,) 
'Tis utter darkness ; strictly double death. 
We sink by no jiulicial stroke of Heaven, 
But nature's course as sure as plummets fall. 
Since God, or man, must alter, ere they meet, 
(For light and darkness bleud not in one sphere,) 
'Tis manifest, Lorenzo, who must change. 

If, then, that double death should prove thy lot, 
Blame not the bowels of the Deity : 
Man shall be bless'd, as far as man permits. 
Not man alone, all ratlonals, Heaven arms 
With an illustrious, but tremendous power 
To counteract its own most gracious ends ; 
And this, of strict necessity, not choice ; 
That power denied, men, angels, were no more 
But passive engines, void of praise or blame. 
A nature rational implies the power 
Of being bless'd or wretched, as we please ; 
Else idle reason would have nought lo do ; 
And he that would be barr'd capacity 
Of pain courts incapacity of bliss. 



154 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT V: 

Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom ; 

Invites us ardently, but not compels. 

Heaven but pert-uades, almighty man decrees ; 

Man is the maker of immortal lates. 

Man falls by man, if finally he falls ; 

And fall he must, who learns from death alone, 

The dreadful secret — that he lives for ever 

Why this to thee ? — thee yet, perhaps, in doubt 
Of second life 1 But wherefore doubtful still 1 
Eternal life is n.ature's ardent wish : 
What ardently we wish, we soon believe : 
Thy tardy faith declares that wish destroy'd : 
What has destroy'd it !— Shall 1 tell thee what"? 
When fear'd ttie future, 'tis no longer wish'd ; 
And when unwish'd, we strive to disbelieve. 
"Thus intidelity our guilt betrays." 
Nor that the sole detection ! Blush, Lorenzo ! 
Blush for hypocrisy, if not for guilt. 

The future fear'd I , An infidel, and fear 1 
Fear what ? a dream ) a fable 7 — How thy dread, 
Unwilling evidence, and therefore strong. 
Affords my cause an undesign'd support ! 
How disbelief affirms what it denies ! 
" It, unawares, asserts immortal life." — 
Surprising ! infidelity turns out 
A creed, and a confession of our sins ; 
Apostates, thus, are orthodox divines. 

Lorenzo! witli Lorenzo clash no more; 
Nor longer a transparent vizor wear. 
Think'st thou Religion only htis her mask 1 
Our infidels are Satan's hypocrites ; 
Pretend the worst, and, at the bottom, fall. 
When visited by thought, (thought will intrude,) 
Like him they serve, they tremble and believe. 
Is their hypocrisy so foul as this 1 
So fatal to the welfare of the world 1 
What detestation, what contempt their due 1 
And, if unpaid, be thank'd for their escape 
That Christian candor they strive hard to scorn. 
If not for that asylum, they might find 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 155 

A hell on earth ; nor 'scape a worse below. 

With insolence, and impotence of thought, 
Instead of racking fancy, to refute. 
Reform thy inanner.s, and the truth enjoy. — 
But shall I dare confess the dire result? 
Can thy proud reason brook so black a brand 1 
From purer manners, to sublimer faith, 
Is nature's unavoidable ascent ; 
An honest deist, where the Gospel shines. 
Matured to nobler, in the Christian ends. 
When that bless'd change arrives, e'en cast aside 
This song sui)erfluous ; life inunortal strikes 
Conviction, in a Hood of light divine. 
A Christian dwells, like Uriel, in the sun ; * 
Meridian evidence puts doubt to flight ; 
And ardent hope anticipates the skies. 
Of that bright sun, Lorenzo 1 scale the sphere ; 
'Tis easy ! it invites thee ; it descends 
From heaven to woo, and waft thee whence it came : 
Read and revere the sacred page ; a page 
Where triumphs iuuuortality ; a page 
Which not the whole creation could produce ; 
Which not the conflagration shall destroy ; 
'Tis printed in the nund of gods for ever : 
In nature's ruins not one letter lost. 

In proud disdain of what e'en gods adore. 
Dost smile 1 Poor wretch ! thy guardian angel weeps- 
Angels and men assent to what I sing ; 
W^its smile, and thank me for my midnight dream. 
How vicious hearts fume frenzy to the brain ! 
Parts push us on to pride, and pride to shame ; 
Pert infidelity is wit's cockade, 
To grace the brazen brow that braves the skies, 
By loss of being, dreadfully secure. 
Lorenzo ! if thy doctrine wins the day, 
And drives my dreams, defeated, from the field 
If this is all, if earth a final scene, 
Take heed ; stand fast ; be sure to be a knave ; 

* Milton. 



156 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

A knave in grain ! ne'er deviate to the right : 

Shouklst thou be good — how iatinite thy loss ! 

Guilt only makes annihilation gain. 

Bless'd scheme ! which lite deprives of comfort, death 

Of hope ; ami which vice only recommends. 

If so, where, infidels I your bait thrown out 

To catch weak converts 7 Where your lofty boast 

Of zeal for virtue, anil of love to man ■? 

Annihilation ! 1 confess in these. 

What can reclaim you 1 Dare I hope profound 
Philosophers the converts of a song ? 
Yet know, its title * Hatters you, not me : 
Yours be the praise to make my title good ; 
Mine, to bless Heaven, and triumph in your praise. 
But since so pestilential your disease, 
Though sov'reign is the medicine I prescribe, 
As yet, I'll neither triumjjh, nor despair: 
But hope, ere long, my midnight dream will \*ake 
Your hearts, and teach your wisdom — to be wise : 
For why should souls innuortal, made for bliss, 
E'er wish (and wish in vain I) that souls could die ? 
What ne'er can die, oh ! grant to live ; and crown 
The wish, and aim, and labor of the skies ; 
Increase, and enter on the joys of heaven: 
Thus shall my title pass a sacred seal. 
Receive an imprimatur from above. 
While angels snout — An infidel reclaim'd ! 

To close, Lorenzo. Spite of all my pains, 
Still seenii it strange, that thou shouldst live for ever 1 
Is it less strange that thou shouldst live at all 1 
This is a miracle ; and that no more. 
Who gave beginning can exclude an end. 
Deny thou art: then, doubt if thou shalt be. 
A miracle with miracles enclosed. 
Is man : and starts his faith at what is strange 1 
What less than wonders, from the Wonderful : 
What less than miracles, from God, can flow 1 
Admit a God — that mystery supreme ! 

* The Infidel reclaimed. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 157 

That cause uncaused ! all other wonders cease ; 
Nothing is marvellous for Him to do ; 
Deny Him — all is mystery besides ! 
Millions of njysteries ! each darker far, 
Than that thy wisdom would, unwisely, shun. 
If weak thy faith, why chouse the harder side 1 
We ndihing know, but what is marvellous ; 
Yet what is marvellous we can't believe. 
Bo weak our reason, and so great our God, 
What most surprises in the sacred page, 
Or full as strange, or stanger, must be true. 
Faith is not reason's labor, but repose. 

To faith and virtue why so backward, man ? 
From hence : — The present strongly strikes us all; 
The future, faintly. Can we, then, be men J 
If men, Lorenzo, the reverse is right. 
Reason is man's peculiar ; sense, tiie brute's. 
The present is the scanty realm of sense ; 
The tuture, reason's empire unconfined : 
On that expending all her godlike power. 
Sue plans, provides, expatiates, triumphs, there ; 
There build = her blessings ; there expects her praise ! 
And nothing asks of fortune or of men. 
And wliat is reason I Be she tiius defined : 
Reason is upright stature in the soul. 
Oh ! be a man ; — and strive to be a god. 

" For what ? (thou say'st :) To damp the joys of 
No ; to give heart and substance to thy joys, [life V 
That tyrant, Hope, mark how she domineers : 
She bids us quit realities for dreams ; 
Safety and peace for hazard and alarm : • 
That tyrant o'er the tyrants of the soul, 
She bids ambition quit its taken prize, 
Spurn the luxuriant branch on which it sits, 
Though bearing crowns, to spring at distant game; 
And plunge in toils and dangers — for repose. 
If hope precarious, and if things, when gaiu'd, 
Of little moment, and at little stay, 
Can sweeten toils and dangers into joys ; 
What, then, that hope which nothing can defeat, 



158 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VII. 

Our leave iinask'd 1 rich hope of boundless bliss ! 
Bliss, past man's power to paint it ; time's, to close ! 

This hope is earth's most estimable prize : 
This is man's portion, while no more than man*. 
Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here ; 
Passions of prouder name befriend us less. 
Joy has her tears ; and tran-port has her death: 
Hope, like a corditil, innocent, though strong, 
Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes ; 
Nor makes him paj^ his wisdom for his joys ; 
'Tis all our present state can safely bear, 
Health to the frame, and vigor to the mind ! 
A joy attemper'd ! a chastised delight ! 
Like the foir sunmier evening, mild and sweet ! 
'Tis man's full cup : his paradise below ! 

A bless'd hereafter, then, or hoped or gain'd, 
Is all : our whole of happiness ; full proof, 
I chose no trivial or inglorious theme. 
And know, ye foes to song ! (well meaning men. 
Though quite forgotten half your Bible's * praise !) 
Important truths, in spite of verse, may please. 
Grave minds you praise, nor can you praise too much ( 
If there is weight in an Eternity, 
Let the grave listen ; — and be graver still. 

* The poetical parts of it. 



VIRTUE'S APOLOGY; 

OR, 
THE JMAK OF THE WORLD AJS^SWERED. 

IN WHICH ARE CONSIDERED, THE LOVE OF THIS LIFE j 

THE AMBITION AND PLEASURE, WITH THE 

WIT AND WISDOM, OF THE WORLD. 



And has all nature, then, espoused my part? 
Have 1 bril)ed heaven and earth to plead against thee 1 
And is thy soul immortal 1 what remains ? 
All, all, Lorenzo ! make immortal, bless'd. 
Unbless'd immortals ! what can shock us more ? 
And yet Lorenzo still affects the world ; 
There stows his treasure ; thence his title draws, 
J\Ian of the world! (for such wouldst thou be call'd.) 
And art thou proud of that inglorious style 1 
Proud of reproach ? for a reproach it was, 
In ancient days ; and Christian, — in an age, 
"When men were men, arid not ashamed of heaven, 
Fired their ambition, as it crown'd their joy. 
Sprinkled with dews from the Castalian font, 
Fain would I rebaptize thee, and confer 
A purer spirit and a nobler name. 

Thy fond attachments, fatal and inflamed, 
Point out my path and dictate to my song : 
To thee the world how fair 1 how strongly strikes 
Anibition ! and gay pleasure stronger still ! 
Thy triple bane 1 the triple bolt that lays 
Thy virtue dead ! be these my triple theme ; 
Nor shall thy wit or wisdom be forgot. 

Common the theme ; not so the song ; if she 
My song invokes, Urania, deigns to smile. 

159 



160 THE COMPLAINT. NIGKT VIII. 

The charm that chains us to the world, her foe, 
If she dissolves, the man of earth, at once, 
Starts from his trance, and sighs for other scenes ; 
Scenes, vvheie these sparks of night, these stars, shall 
Unnumber'd suns ; (tor all things as they are [shine 
The bless'd behold ;) and in one glory pour 
Their blended blaze on man's astonish'd sight; 
A blaze the least illustrious object there. 

Lorenzo I since eternal is at hand, 
To swallow time's ambitions ; as the vast 
Leviathan, the bubbles vain, that ride, 
High on the foaming billow ; what avail 
High titles, high descent, attainments high, 
If unattain'd our highest ? O Lorenzo ! 
What lofty thoughts, these elements above, 
What towering hopes, what sallies from the sun, 
What grand surveys of destiny divine, 
And pompous presage of unfathom'd fate, 
Should roll in bosoms where a spirit burns 
Bound for Eternity ! in bosoms read 
By Him who foibles in archangels sees ! 
On human hearts He bends a jealous eye, 
And marks, and in heaven's register enrolls. 
The rise and progress of each option there ; 
Sacred to doomsday ! That the page unfolds. 
And spreads us to the gaze of gods and men. 

And what an option, O Lorenzo ! thine ! 
This world ! and this unrivall'd by the skies ! 
A world, where lust of pleasure, grandeur, gold. 
Three demons that divide its realuis between them, 
With strokes alternate buffet to and fro 
Man's restless heart, their sport, their flying ball ; 
Till, with the giddy circle sick and tired, 
It pants for peace, and drops into despair. 
Such is the world Lorenzo sets above 
That glorious promise angels were esteem'd 
Too mean to bring ; a promise, their Adored 
Descended to conmiunicate, and press. 
By counsel, miracle, life, death, on man. 
Such is the world Lorenzo's wisdom woos, 



virtue's apology. 161 

And on its thorny pillow seeks repose ; 

A pillow, which, like (;piale< ill prepared, 

Intoxicates, but not cuiaposes ; tiilo 

The visionary mind witii gay chimeras, 

All the wild tni-h of ;rleep, witlmui the rest ; 

What unfe'.ga'd travel, and whut dreams of joy ! 

How trail, men, things ! How momentary both! 
Fantastic chase of shadows hnnling shades! 
Tiie gay, the bn-y, c^iual, though unlike ; 
f Equal in wisdom, uilieieiilly w ise ! 
Through flowery me uh>\v., and through dreary W'astes 
One bustling, and one d.inciiig, into death. 
There's not a day, but to the man of thought. 
Betrays some secret liiat throws new reproach 
On lile, and makes liim sick of seeing more. 
The scenes of business tell us — " VVliat are men ;" 
The scenes of pleasure — " VViiat is all beside :" 
There, others we despise ; and here, ourselves. 
Amid disgust elernai, dwells delight 1 
'Tis approbation strikes the string of joy. 

What wondrous prixc has kindled this career, 
Stuns w ith the din, and chokes us vvitii the dust, 
On life's gay stage, one inch above the grave 1 
The proud run up and down, in (juest of eyes ; 
The sensual, in pursuit of something worse ; 
The grave, of gold ; the politic, of power ; 
And all, of other butterflies as vain ! 
As eddies draw things frivolous and light, 
How is man's heart by vanity drawn in ; 
On the swift circle of returning toys, [gulfd, 

W^hiri'd straw-like, round and round, and thea in- 
Where gay delusion darkens to despair ! 

" This is a beaten track." Is this a track 
Should not be beaten 1 Never beat enough, 
Till enough learn'd the truths it would inspire. 
Shall truth be silent because folly frowns 7 
Turn the world's history ; what find we there 
But fortune's sports, or nature's cruel clahns, 
Or woman's artifice, or man's revenge, 
And endless inhiunanities on man 1 
11 



162 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIIT. 

Fame's trumpet seldom sound', hut, like the knell, 

It brings sad tidings : how it honriy blows 

Man's misadventures round the listening world! 

Man is the tale of narrative old Time ; 

Sad tale ! which high as Paradise begins ; 

As if, the toil of travel to delude, 

From stage to stage, in his eternal round, 

The days, his daughters, as they spin our hours 

On fortune's wheel, where accident unthought 

Oft, in a moment, snaps life's strongest thread, 

T3ach, in her turn, some tragic story tells, 

With, now and then, a wretched farce between ; 

And fills his chronicle with human woes. 

Time's daughters, true as those of men, deceive us ; 
Not one, but puts some cheat on all mankind : 
While in their father's bosom, not yet ours. 
They flatter our fond hopes ; and promise much 
Of amiable ; but hold him not o'erwise. 
Who dares to trust them : and laugh round the year 
At still confiding, still confounded man, 
Confiding, though confounded ; hoping on, 
Untaught by trial, unconvinc'd by proof, 
And ever looking for the never seen. 
Life to the last, like harden'd felons, lies : 
Nor owns itself a cheat till it expires. 
Its little joys go out by one and one. 
And leave poor man, at length, in perfect night ; 
Night, darker than what now involves the pole. 

O THOU, who dost permit these ills to fall. [mourn ! 
For gracious ends, and wouldst that man should 
O THOU, whose hands this goodly fabric framed, 
Who know'st it best, and wouldst that man should 
What is this sublunary world 1 A vapor I [know ! 
A vapor all it holds : itself a vapor, 
From the damp bed of chaos, by thy beam 
Exhaled, ordain'd to swim its destined hour 
In ambient air, then melt and disappear. 
Earth's days are number'd, nor remote her doom ; 
As mortal, though less transient than her sons 
Yet they dote on her, as the world and they 



VIRfUE's APOLOQTf. 163 

Were both eternal, solid ; THOU, a dream. 

They dote, on what ? Immortal views apart, 
A region of outsides ! a land of shadows 1 
A fruillul field of riowery promises ! 
A vviklerness of joys ! perplex'd with doubts, 
And shari) with thorns ! a troubled occean, spread 
With bold adventurers, their all on board I 
Ko second hope, if here their fortune frowns ! 
Frown soon it must. Of various rates they sail. 
Of ensigns various ; all alike in this, 
All restless, anxious ; toss'd with hopes and fears, 
In calmest skies ; obnoxious all to storm ; 
And stormy the most general blast of life : 
All bound for happiness : yet fev.' provide 
The chart of knowledge, pointing where it lies; 
Or virtues helm, to shape the course design'd : 
All, more or less, capracious fate lament, 
Now litted by the tide, and now resorb'd, 
And further from their wislies than before : 
All, more or less, against each other dash. 
To nmtual hurt, by gusts of passion driven, 
And sulferiiig more from folly than from fate. 

Ocean ! tliou dreadful and tumultuous home 
Of dangers, at eternal war with man ! 
Death's capital, where most he domineers, 
With all his chosen terrors frowning round, 
(Though lately feasted high at Albion's cost,*) 
Wide op'ning and loud roaring still for more ! 
Too faithful mirror I how dost thou reflect 
The melancholy face of human life ! 
The strong resemblance tempts me further still, 
And, haply, Britain may be deeper struck 
By moral truth, in such a mirror seen, 
Which nature holds for ever at her eye. 

Self flatter'd, unexperienced, high in hope, [gay, 
When young, with sanguine cheer, and streamers 
We cut our cable, launch into the world. 
And fondly dream each wind and star our friend. 

♦Admiral Balcben, &c. 



164 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT Vlll. 

All in some darling enterprise embark'd: 
But where is he can fathom its event 7 
Amid a multitude of artless hands, 
Ruin's sure perquisite ! her lawful prize ! 
Some steer aright ; but the black blast blows hard, 
And pufts them wide of hope : with hearts of proof, 
Full against wind and tide, some win their way ; 
And when strong elFort has deserved the port, 
And tugg'd it into view, 'tis won ! 'tis lost ! 
Though strong their oar, still stronger is their fate : 
They strike ; and, while they triumph, they expire. 
In stress of weather, most ; some sink outright ; 
O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows close: 
To-morrow knows not they were ever born. 
Others a short memorial leave behind. 
Like a flag floating, when the bark's ingulf 'd J 
It floats a moment, and is been no more : 
One CjEsar lives ; a thousand are forgot. 
How tew, beneath auspicious planets born, 
(Darlings of Providence ! fond Fate's elect !) 
With swelling sails make good the promised port, 
With all their wishes freighted ! Yet, even these, 
Freighted with all their wishes, soon complain : 
Free from misfortune, not from nature free. 
They still are men ; and when is man secure 1 
As fatal time, as storm ! the rush of years 
Beats down their strength ; their numberless escapes 
In ruin end : and, now, their proud success 
But plants new terrors on the victor's brow : 
What pain to quit the world just made their own; 
Their nest so deeply down'd, and built so high ! 
Too low they build, who build beneath the stars. 

Woe then apart, (if woe apart can be 
From mortal man,) and fortune at our nod. 
The gay! rich! great! triumphant! and august! 
What are they 1 — The most happy (strange to say !) 
Convince me most of human misery : 
What are they 1 Smiling wretches of to-morrow ! 
More wretched, then, than e'er their slave can be ; 
Their treacherous blessings, at the day of need, 



virtue's apology. 165 

Like other faithless friends, unmask, and sting 
Then, wliat provoking indigence in wealth! 
What aggravated impotence in power ! 
High titles, then, what insult of their pain; 
If that sole anchor equal to the waves, 
linmortal hope 1 defies not the rude storm, 
Takes comfort from the foaming billows' rage, 
And makes a welcome harbor of the tomb. 

Is this a sketch of what thy soul admires 1 
" But here (thou say'st) the miseries of life 
sAre huddled in a group. A njore distinct 
feurvey, perhaps, might bring thee better news." 
[Look on life's stages : they speak plainer still ; 
[The plainer they, the deeper wilt thou sigh. 
Look on thy lovely boy ; in him behold 
The best that can befall the best on earth ; 
The boy has virtue by his mother's side : 
Yes, on Florello look : a father's heart 
Is tender, though the man's is made of stone : 
The truth, through such a medium seen, may make 
Impression deep, and fondness prove thy friend. 

Florello. lately cast on this rude coast, 
A helpless infant ; now a heedless child : 
To poor Clarissa's throes thy care succeeds ; 
Care full of love, and yet severe as hate ! 
O'er thy soul's joy how oft thy fondness frowns ! 
Needful austerities his will restrain : 
As thorns fence in the tender plant from harm. 
As yet, his reason cannot go alone , 
But asks a sterner nurse to lead it on. 
His little heart is often terrified ; 
The blush of morning, in his cheek turns pale; 
Its pearly dew-drop trembles in his eye ; 
His harmless eye I and drowns an angel there. 
Ah 1 what avails his innocence 1 The task 
Enjoin'd must discipline his early powers ; 
He learns to sigh, e'er he is known to sin ; 
Guiltless and sad ! a wretch before the fall I 
How cruel this ! more cruel to forbear. 
Our nature such, with necessar)- pains 



166 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VHI. 

We purchase prospects of precarious peace : 
Though not a father, this might steal a sigh. 

Suppose him disciplined ariglit ; (if not, 
'Twill sink our poor account to poorer still ;) 
Ripe from the tutor, proud of liberty, 
He leaps inclosures, bounds into tlie world I 
The world is taken, after ten years' toil, 
Like ancient Troy ; and all its joys his own. 
Alas ! the world's a tutor more severe ; 
Its lessons hard, and ill deserve his pains : 
Unteaching all his virtues nature taught. 
Or books (fair virtue's advocates !) inspired. 

For who receives him into public lite 1 
Men of the world, the terrae-ttlial breed. 
Welcome the modest stranger to their sphere, 
(Which glitter'd long, at distance, in his sight,) 
And, in their hospitable arms enclose : 
Men, who think nought so strong of the romance, 
So rank knight-errant, as a real friend : 
Men, that act up to reason's golden rule. 
All weakness of aflection quite subdued ; 
Men that would blush at being thought sincere, 
And feign, for glory, the few faults they want ; 
That love a lie, where truth would pay as well ; 
As if, to them, vice shone her own reward. 

LoREKZO ! canst thou bear a shocking sight 1 
Such, for Florello's sake, 'twill now appear: 
See the steel'd tiles of season'd veterans, 
Train'd to the world, in burnish'd falsehood bright; 
Deep in the fatal stratagems of peace ; 
All soft sensation, in the throng, rubb'd off; 
All their keen purpose in politeness sheath'd: 
His friends eternal — during interest ; 
His foes implacable — when worth their while; 
At war with every welfare but their own ; 
As wise as Lucifer ; and half as good ; 
And by whom none but Lucifer can gain — 
Naked through these, (so common fate ordains,) 
Naked of heart, his cruel course he runs, 
Stung out of all most amiable in lilie, 



virtue's apology. IGJ 

Prompt tiutli,au(l open thought, and smiles unfeign'd ; 
Affection, a.s hia species, wide ditfu.sed; 
Noble presumptions to mankind's renown; 
Ingenuous tr u?t, and confidence of love. 

These claims lo joy (it mortals joy might claim) 
Will cost him many a sigh ; till time and pains, 
From the slow mistress of this school, Experiencei 
And her assistant, pausing, pale distrust. 
Purchase a dear-bought ciue to lead his youth 
Through serpentine obliquities of life, 
And the dark labyrinth of human hearts. 
And happy I if the clue shall come so cheap : 
For, while we learn to fence with public guilt, 
Full oft we feel its foul contagion too. 
If less than heavenly virtue is our guard. 
Thus a strange kind of curs'd necessity 
Brings down the sterling temper of his soul, 
By base alloy, to bear the current stamp. 
Below caird wisdom ; sinks him into safety ; 
And brands him into credit with ihe world: 
Where specious titles dignify disgrace, 
And nature's injuries are arts of life ; 
Where brighter reason prompts to bolder crimes ; 
And heavenly talents make infernal hearts ; 
That insurmountable extreme of guilt. 

Poor jMacjiiavel ! who labored hard his plan, 
Forgot that genius needs not go to school ; 
Forgot that man, without a tutor wise. 
His plan had practised long before 'twas writ. 
The world's all title-page ; there's no contents ; 
The world's all face ; the man who shows his heart 
Is hooted for his nudities, and scorn'd. 
A man 1 knew, who lived upon a smile ; 
And well it fed him : he look'd plump, and fair ; 
While rankest venom foam'd through every vein. 
Lorenzo ! what I tell thee take not ill: 
Living, he favvn'd on every fool alive ; 
And, dying, cursed the friend on whom he lived. 
To such proficients thou art half a saint. 
in foreign realms (for thou hast ti^vel'd far) 



168 THE COMPLAINT. KIGHT VIII. 

How curious to contemplate two state rooks, 
Studious their nests to leather in a trice ; 
With all the necroniantics of their art, 
Playing the game of faces on each other ; 
Making court sweetmeats of their latent gall, 
In foolish hope to steal each other's trust ; 
Both cheating, both exulting, both deceived ; 
And, sometimes, both (let earth rejoice) undone ! 
Their parts we doubt not ; but be that their shame : 
Shall men of talents, fit to rule mankind, 
Stoop to mean wiles, that would disgrace a fool ; 
And lose the thanks of those few friends they serve ? 
For who can thank the man he cannot see 1 

Why so much cover ? It defeats itself. 
Ye that know all things ! know ye not men's hearts 
Are therefore known, because they are conceal'd 1 
For why conceal'd ? The cause they need not tell. 
I give him joy that's awkward at a lie ; 
Whose feeble nature truth keeps still in awe : 
His incapacity is his renown. 
'Tis great, 'tis manly, to disdain disguise ; 
It shows our spirit, or it proves our strength. 
Thou say'st 'tis needful. Is it therefore right "? 
Howe'er, 1 grant it some small sign of grace. 
To strain at an excuse. And wouldst thou then 
Escape that cruel need 1 Thou may'st with ease : 
Think no post needful that demands a knave. 
When late our civil helm was shifting hands, 
So P thought : think better if you can. 

But this, how rare ! the }»ublic path of life 
Is dirty. Yet allow that dirt its due, 
It makes the noble mind more noble still : 
The world's no neuter : it will wound or save ; 
Or virtue quench, or indignation fire. 
You say, the world, well known, will make a man. 
The world, well known, will give our hearts to heaven 
Or make us demons long before we die. 

To show how fair the world, thy mistress, shines, 
Take either part, sure ills attend the choice ; 
Sure, though not ^ual, detriment ensues. 



virtue's apology 169 

Not virtue's self is deified on earth : 

Virtue has her reiap^es, conflicts, foes ; 

Foes, that ne'er fail to make her feel their hate. 

Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. 

True ; friends to virtue last and least complain ; 

But if they sigh, can others hope to smile ? 

If wisdom" has her miseries to mourn. 

How can poor folly lead a happy life 1 

And if both suffer, what has earth to boast, 

Where he's most happy who the least laments? 

Where much, much patience, the most envied state, 

And some forgiveness, needs the best of friends 1 

For friend, or happy life, who looks not higher, 

Of neither shall he find the shadow here. 

The world's sworn advocate without a fee, 
Lorenzo smartly, with a smile, replies: 
" Thus far thy song is right ; and all must own, 
Virtue has her peculiar set of pains. 
And joys peculiar who to vice denies ? 
If vice it is, with nature to comply : 
If pride and sense are so predominant. 
To check, not overcome them, makes a saint: 
Can nature in a plainer voice proclaim 
Pleasure and glory the chief good of man ? " 

Can pride, and sensuality rejoice "? 
From purity of thought all pleasure springs ; 
And, from an humble spirit all our peace. 
Ambition, pleasure ! Let us talk of these: 
Of these the Porch and Academy talk'd ; 
Of the.-e each following age had much to say: 
Yet unexhausted still the needful theme. 
Who talks ot; these, to mankind all at once 
He talks ; for where's the saint from either free ? 
Are the-e thy refuge 7 no : these rush upon thee. 
Thy vitals seize, and, vulture-like, devour. 
I'll try if 1 can pluck thee from thy rock, 
Prometheus ! from this barren ball of earth ! 
If reason can unchain thee, thou art free. 

And, first, thy Caucasus, ambition calls ; 
Mountain of torments ! emuieuce of woes ! 



170 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIII. 

Of courted woes ! and courted through mistake 1 
'Tis not ambition charms thee ; 'tis a cheat 

Will make thee start, as H at h'is Moor. 

Dost grasp at greatness 1 First, know what it is : 

Think'st thou thy greatness iu distinction lies 1 

Not in the leather, wave it e'er so high, 

By fortune stuck, to mark us from the throng, 

Is glory lodg'd ; 'tis lodged in the reverse : 

In that whicli joins, in tliat which equals all, 

'j'he monarch and his slave ; — " a deathless soul, 

Unbouniled prospect, and innnortal kin, 

A Father God, and brothers in the skies ;" 

Elder, indeed, in time ; but less remote 

In excellence, perhaps, than thought by man : 

Why greater what can fall than what can rise ? 

If still delirious, now, Lorenzo, go ; 
And with thy full-blown brothers of the world. 
Throw scorn around thee : cast it on thy slaves ; 
Thy slaves, and equals : how scorn, cast on them, 
Redounds on thee ! If man is mean, as man. 
Art thou a god 1 If fortune makes him so, 
Beware the consequence : a maxim that, 
Which draws a monstrous picture of mankind; 
Where, in the drapery, the man is lost ; 
Externals fluttering, and the soul forgot. 
Thy greatc.4 glory when disposed to boast, 
Boast that aloud in which thy servants share. 

We wisely strip the steed we mean to buy : 
Judge we, in their caparisons, of men? 
It nought avails thee where, but what, thou art; 
All the dcstinctlons of this little life 
Are quite cutaneous, foreign to the man, 
When, through death's straits, earth's subtle serpents 
Which wriggle into wealth, or climb renown, [creep, 
As crooked Satan the forbidden tree ; 
They leave their party-color'd robe behind, 
All that now glitters, while they rear aloft 
Their brazen crests, and hiss at us below. 
Of fortune's fucus strip them, yet alive ; 
Strip them of body too ; nay, closer still, 



virtue's apology. 171 

Away with all, but moral, in their minds ; 
And let what then remains impose their name, 
Tronounce them weak, or worthy ; great or mean. 
How mean that snuff of glory fortune lights, 
And death puts out ! Dost thou demand a test, 
A test at once infallible and short, 
Of real greatness 1 That man greatly lives, 
Whate'er his fate or fame, who greatly dies ; 
High-flU'hed with hope, where heroes shall despair. 
If this a true criterion, many courts. 
Illustrious, might afford but few grandees. 

The Almighty, from his throne, on earth surveys 
Nought greater than an honest, humble heart ; 
An humble heart his residence ! pronounced 
His second seat ; and rival to the skies. 
The private path, the secret acts of men, 
If ooble, far the noblest of our lives ! 
How far above Lorknzo's glory sits 
Th' illustrious master of a name unknown 1 
Whose worth, unrivall'd and unwitness'd, loves 
Life's sacred shades, where gods converse with men ; 
And peace, beyond the world's conception, smiles I 
As thou, (now dark,) before we part, shalt see. 

But thy great soul this skulking glory scorns. 
Lorenzo's sick, but when Lorknzo's seen ; 
And when he shrugs at public business, lies. 
Denied the public e>e, the public voice. 
As if he lived on others' breath, he dies. 
Fain would he make the world his pedestal ; 
Mankind, the gazers ; the sole figure he. 
Knows he, that mankind praise ag.iinst their will, 
And mix as much detraction as they can ? 
Knows he, that faithless fame her whisper has, 
As well as trumpet ? that his vanity 
Is so much tickled, from not hearing all ? 
Knows this all-knower, that from itch of praise, 
Or, from an itch more sordid, when he shines. 
Taking his country by five hundred ears, 
Senates at once admire him and despise. 
With modest laughter lining loud applause, 



172 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIII. 

Which makes the smile more mortal to his fame "? 

His fame, which, (like the mighty Caesar,) crown'd 

With laurels, in full senate, greatly falls 

By seeming friends, that honor and destroy. 

We rise in glory as we sink in pride : 

Where boasting ends, there dignity begins ; 

And yet, mistaken beyond all mistake, 

The blind Lorenzo's proud — of being proud ; 

And dreams himself ascending in his fall. 

An eminence, though fancied, turns the brain: 
All vice wants hellebore ; but, of all vice, 
Pride loudest calls, and for the largest bowl; 
Because, all other vice unlike, it flies, 
In fact, the point in fancy most pursued. 
Who court applause oblige the world in this ; 
They gratify man's passion to refuse. 
Superior honor, when assumed, is lost ; 
E'en good men turn banditti, and rejoice. 
Like KouLi Kan, in plunder of the proud. 

Though somewhat disconcerted, steady still 
To the world's cause, with half a face of joy, 
Lorenzo cries — " Be then ambition cast. 
Ambition's dearer far stands unimpeach'd, 
Gay pleasure ! Proud ambition is her slave ; 
For her he soars at great, and hazards ill ; 
For her he fights, and bleeds or overcomes ; 
And paves his way with crowns, to reach her smile ; 
Who can resist her charms 1 " — Or, should? 

Lorenzo ! 
What mortal shall resist, where angels yield "J 
Pleasure's the mistress of ethereal powers ; 
For her contend the rival gods above ; 
Pleasure's the mistress of the world below ; 
And well it is for man that pleasure charms : 
How would all stagnate but for pleasure's ray ; 
How would the frozen streain of action cease ! 
What is the pulse of this so busy world 1 
The love of pleasure : that, through every vein 
Throws motion, warmth ; and shuts out death from 

Though various are the tempers of mankind, [life. 



virtue's apology. 173 

Pleasure's gaj- fauiily holds all in chains ; 

Bonie most artect the black : and some the fair ! 

Some honest pleasure court; and some ob-cene. 

Pleasures obscene are various as the throng 

Of passions that can err in human hearts ; 

Mistake their objects, or transgress their bounds. 

Think you there's but one whoredom 1 Whoredom, 

But when our reason licenses delight. [all, 

Dost doubt, LoKKNZo 1 Thou shalt doubt no more. 

Thy father chides thy gallantries ! yet hugi 

An ugly, conunon harlot, in the dark ; 

A rank adulterer with others' gold ! 

And that liag, Vengeance, in a corner, charms. 

Hatred her brothel has, as well as love. 

Where horrid epicures debaucli in blood. 

Whate'er the motive, pleasure is the mark : 

For her the black assassin draws his sword ; 

For her dark statesmen trim their midnight lamp, 

To which no single sacrifice may fall : 

For her, the saint ahetains ; tlie miser starves ; 

The Stoic proud tor piea.--ure, pleasure scorn'd : 

For her, atliictioa's daughters grief indulge, 

And find, or hope, a luxury in tears : 

For her, guilt, shanie, toil, danger, we defy; 

And, with an aim voluptuous, rush on death. 

Thus universal her depotic power I 

And as her empire wide, her praise is just. 
Patron of pleasure I doter on delight ! 
I am thy rival ; pleasure I profess ; 
Pleasure the purpose of my gloomy song. 
Pleasure is nought but virtue's gayer name ; 
I wrong her still, I rate her worth too low ; 
Virtue the root, and pleasure is the flower ; 
And honest Epicurus' foes were fools. 

But this sounds harsh, and gives the wise offence J 
If o'erstrain'd wisdom still retains the name. 
How knits austerity her cloudy brow, 
And blames, as bold and hazardous, the praise 
Of pleasure, to mankind, un{Hraised, too dear ! 
Ye modern Stoics 1 hear my soft reply ; 



174 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT Vlll. 

Their senses men will trust : we can't impose ; 
Or, if we could, is imposition rigiit? 
Own honey sweet ; but, owning, add this sting; 
" Wiien mix'd with poison it is deadly too." 
Trutli never was indebted to a lie. 
Is nought but virtue to be praised as good 1 
Why tnen is health pret'err'd before disease 1 
What nature loves is good, without our leave. 
And where no future drawback cries, " Beware ; " 
Pleasure, though not from virtue, should prevail. 
'Tis biilni to lite, and gratitude to Heaven : 
How cold our thanks tor bounties iinenjoy'd ! 
The love of pleasure is man's eldest born, 
Born in his cradle, living to his tomb ; 
Wisdom, her younger sister, though more grave, 
Was meant to minister, and not to mar. 
Imperial pleasure, queen of human hearts. 
LoRKNZo ! thou, her majesty's renown'd, 
Thougli uncoift counsel, learned in the world ! 
Who think'st thyself a Murray with disdain 
Mayst look on me. Yet, my Demosthknes ! 
Canst thou plead pleasure's cause as well as 1 1 
Know'st thou her nature, purpose, parentage ? 
Attend my song, and thou shall know them all ; 
And know thyself; and know thyself to be 
(Strange truth !) the most abstemious man alive. 
Tell not Calista : she will laugh thee dead ; 

Or send thee to her hermitage with L , 

Absurd presumption ! thou who never knew'st 
A serious thought ! shall thou dare dream of joy? 
No man e'er found a happy life by chance ; 
Or yawn'd it into being with a wish : 
Or, with the snout of grovelling appetite, 
E'er smelt it out, and grubb'd it from the dirt. 
An art it is, and must be learn'd ; and iearn'd 
With unremitting effort, or be lost ; 
And leave us perfect blockheads in our bliss. 
The clouds may drop down titles and estates : 
Wealth may seek us ; but wisdom must be sought; 
Sought before all ; but (how unlike all else 



virtue's apology. J75 

We seek on earth !) 'tis never sought in vain. [see. 

First, pleasure's birth, rise, strength, and grandeur 
Brouglit forth by wisdom, nur.i;ed by discipline, 
By patience taught, by per.ieverance crown'd, 
She rears her head majestic ; round her throne, 
Erected in the bosom ot' tlie ju.-;t, 
Each virtue, listed, forms her manly guard. 
For wh U are virtues ? (formidable name !) 
What, but the fountain or defence of joy 7 
Why, then, commanded ? Need mankind commands 
At once to merit and to make their bliss ? 
Great Legislator ! scarce so great as kind ! 
If men are rational, and love delight. 
Thy gracious law but flatters human choice: 
In the transgression lies the penalty ; 
And they the most indulge wiio most obey. 

Of pleasure next the tiual cause explore; 
Its mighty purpose, its important end. 
Not to turn human brutal, but to build 
Divine on human, pleasure came from heaven. 
In aid to reason was the goddess sent ; 
To call up all its strength by such a charm. 
Pleasure tirst succours virtue ; in return, 
Virtue gives pleasure an eternal reign. 
What but the pleasure of food, friendship, faith, 
Supports life natural, civil, and divine 1 
'Tis from the pleasure of repast we live ; 
'Tis from the pleasure of applause we please ; 
'Tis from the pleasure of belief we pray 
(All prayer would cease, if unbelieved the prize :) 
It serves ourselves, our species, and our God ; 
And to serve more is past the sphere of man. 
Glide, then, for ever, pleasure's sacred stream J 
Through Eden as Euphrates ran, it runs, 
And fosters every growth of happy life ; 
Makes a new Eden where it flows ; — but such 
As must be lost, Lorenzo, by thy fall. 

" What mean I by thy fall ?" Thou'lt shortly see, 
While pleasure's nature is at large display'd; 
Already sung her origin and ends. 



176 THE COMPLAINT. NIBHT Vlll. 

Those glorious ends, by kind or bj^ degree, 

When pleasure violates, 'tis then a vice, 

A vengeance too ; it liastens into pain. 

From due refreshment, iiiie, health, reason, joy ; 

From wild excess, pain, grief, distractiijn, death ; 

Heaven's justice this proclaims, and that her love. 

What greater evil can 1 wish my foe 

Than liis full draught of pleasure, from a cask 

Unbroach'd by just autliority, unhanged 

By temperance, by reason uuretiiied .' 

A thousaiid demons lurk within tlie lee. 

Heaven, others, and ourselves ! uninjured these, 

Drink deep ; the deeper, then, the more divine ; 

Angels are angels, from indulgence there ; 

'Tis unrepenting plea.-ure makes a god. 

Dost think thyself a god from other joys 1 

A victim, ratlier ! s'aortly sure to bleed. [fail ? 

The wrong must mourn ; can heaven's appointments 

Can man outwit onmipotence .' strike out 

A self-wrought happiness unmeant by Him 

Who made us, and the world we would enjoy 1 

Who forms an instrument, ordains fr(mi whence 

Its dissonance or harmony shall rise. 

Heaven bid the soul this mortal frame inspire ; 

Bid virtue's ray divine in; pire the soul 

With unprecarious Mows of vital joy : 

And, without breathir.g, man as well might hope 

For life, as, witlaout piety, lor peace. 

" Is virtue, then, and piety the same 1 
No ; piety is more : 'tis virtue's source ; 
Mother of every worth, as that, of joy. 
Men of the world this doctrine ill digest ; 
They smile at piety ; yet boast aloud 
Gootl will to men ; nor know they strive to part 
What nature joins ; and thus confute themselves. 
With piety begins all good on earth ; 
'Tis tlie tirst-born of rationality. 
Conscience, her tirst law broken, wounded lies ; 
Enfeebled, lifeless, impotent to good ; 
A feigu'd aflection bounds her utmost power. 



virtue's apology. 177 

Some we can't love, but lor the Almighty's sake: 
A foe to Cod \v;i.s ne'er true friend to man ; 
Some sinister intent taiiits all he does : 
And, in his kindest actions, he's unkind. 

On piety humanity is built; 
And, on humanity, much happiness: 
And yet still more on piety itself. 
A soul in commerce with her God is heaven; 
Feels not the tumults and llie shocks of life, 
The whirls of passion, and the strokes of heart. 
A Deity believed is joy begun ; 
A Deity adored is joy advanced ; 
A Deity beloved is joy matured. 
Each branch of piety delight inspires : 
Faith builds a l)ridge from this world to the next, 
O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horror hides : 
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy. 
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still : 
Prayer ardent opens heaven, lets down a stream 
Of glory on the consecrated ho^ir 
Of man, in audience with the Lleity. 
Who worships the Great God, that instant joins 
The first in heaven and sets his foot on hell. 

Lorenzo ! when wast lliou at church before 1 
Thou think'st the service long: but is it just? 
Though just, unwelcome : thou hadst rather tread 
Unhallow'd ground , the mu»e, to win thine ear, 
Must take an air less solemn. She complies. 
GootI conscience ; at the sound the world retires ; 
Ver<e disaH'ects it, and Lorenzo smiles : 
Yet has she her seraglio full of charms ; 
And such as age shall heighten, not iir.pair. 
Art thou dejected? is thy mind o'ercast? 
A mill her fair ones, thou the fairest choose, 
To chase thy gloom. "Go, fix some weighty truth; 
Chain down some passion ; do some generous good; 
Teach ignorance t<i see, or grief to smile ; 
Correct thy friend ; befriend thy greatest foe : 
Or with warm heart, or confidence divine, [thee." 
Spring up, and lay strong hold on lliiu who mada 



178 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT Vlll. 

Thy gloom is scatter'd, sprightly spirits flow ; 
Though wither'd is thy vine, and harp unstrung.. 

Dost call the bowl, the viol, and the d;ince. 
Loud mirth, mad laughter 7 Wretched comforters ! 
Physicians I more than half of thy disease. 
Laughter, though never censured yet as sin, 
(Pardon a thought that only seen>s t^evere,) 
Is half immoral. Is it much indulged 1 
By venting spleen, or dissipating thought, 
It shows a scorner, or it makes a tool ; 
And sins, as hurting others or ourselves. 
'Tis pride or emptiness applies the straw, 
That tickles little minds to mirth etfu;-e ; 
Of grief approaching the portentous sign ! 
The house of laughter makes a house of woe. 
A man triumphant is a monstrous sight ; 
A njan dejected is a sight as mean. 
Why cause for triumph where such ills abound 1 
What for dejection where provides a Power 
Who call'd us into being to be bless'dl 
So grieve as conscious grief may rise to joy ; 
So joy, as conscious joy to grief my y fall. 
Most true, a wise man never will be sad ; 
But neither will sonorous, bubbling mirth, 
A shallow stream of happiness betray : 
Too happy to be sportive, he's serene. 

Yet would'st thou laugh, (but at thy own expense,) 
This counsel strange should I presmne to give — 
" Retire, and read thy Bible, t(( be gay." 
There truths abound of sov'reign aid to peace ; 
Ah ! do not prize them less because inspired. 
As thou and thine are apt and proud to do. 
If not inspired, that pregnant i)age had stood. 
Time's treasure, and the wonder of the wise ! 
Thou think'st, perhaps, thy soul alone at stake : 
Alas ! — should men mistake thee for a fool : 
What man of taste for genius, vvi^dom, truth, 
Though tender of thy tame, could interpose 1 
Believe me, sense here acts a double ptat, 
And the true critic is a Christian too. 



virtue's apology. 179 

But Ihese, thou think'st, are gloomy paths to joy.— 
True joy in sunshine ne'er was found at first ; 
They first them-elves otlend who greatly please; 
And travel only gives us sound repose. 
Heaven sells all pleasure : effort is the price; 
The joys of conquest are the joys of man ; 
And glory the victorious laurel spreads 
O'er pleasure's i)ure, j)crpetu il, placid stream. 

There is a time when toil mu^t be preferr'd, . 
Or joy, by mistimed fondness, is undone. 
A man of pleasure is a man of pains. 
Thou wilt not take the trouble to be hless'd. 
False joys, indeed, are born from want of thought ; 
From thought's full bent and energy, the true ; 
And that (iemands a uiind in ecpial poise, 
Remote from gloomy grief and glaring joy. 
Much joy not only speaks small happiness, 
But happiness that shortly nuist expire. 
Can joy, unbottom'd in reflection, stand ? 
And, in a tempest, can reflection live 1 
Can joy like ihine secure itself an hour 1 
Can joy like thine meet accident unshock'd ? 
Or ope the door to honest poverty 1 
Or talk with threatening de.'.th, and not turn paid 
In such a world, and such a nature, these 
Are needful fundamentals of delight : 
These fundamentals give deligiu indeed; 
Delight, pure, delicate, and durable ; 
Delight, unshaken, masculine, divine ; 
A constant, and a souiul, but serious joy. 

Is joy the daughter of severity 1 
It is : — yet far my doctrine from severe. 
*' Rejoice for ever :" it becomes a man ; 
Exalts, and sets him nearer to the gods. 
" Rejoice i"or ever ! " nature cries, " Rejoice ; " 
And drinks to man in her nectareous cup, 
Mix'd up of delicates for every sense ; 
To the great Founder of the bounteous feast, 
Drinks glorj-, gratitude, eternal praise ; 
And he that will not pledge her is a churl. 



180 TIIK COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIII. 

Ill firmly to support, jrood ftiily ta.ste, 

Is the whole ^clelice of lelic.ty. 

Yet i^piirlug pledge . her bowl is not the best 

Mankind can bo.ist. — " A rational repast; 

Exertion, vigilance, a nund in arms, 

A military di cipline of thought, 

To foil temptation in the douhiful field ; 

And ever waking ardor Ibr the right." 

'Tis these first give, then guard a cheerful heart. 

Nought that is right, think little ; well aware, 

What reason bids, God bids ; by His command 

How aggrandized the smallest thing we do! 

Thus, nothing is inipid to the wise : 

To thee insipid all but what is mad ; 

Joys season'd liigh, and tasting strong of guilt. 

"Mad I (thou repliest, with indignation fired,) 
Of ancient snges proud to tread the steps, 
I follow natiu-e." — Follow nature still. 
But look it be thine own. Is conscience then 
No part of nature 7 Is she not supreme 1 
Thou regicide ! Oh, rai-e her from the dead ! 
Then follow nature ; and re.-emhle God. 

When, spite of ccmscience, pleasure is pursued ! 
Man's nature is unnaturally pleased : 
And what's unnatural is painful too 
At intervals, and must di-gust e'en thee ! 
The fact thou know'st but not j)erhaps the cause. 
Virtue's foundations with the world's were laid; 
Heaven niix'd her with our make, and twisted close 
Her sacred interests with the strings of life. 
Who breaks her awful mandate shocks himself. 
His better self: and is it greater pain. 
Our soul should murmur, or our dust repine 1 
And one, in their eternal war, must bleed. 

If one must sutler, which should least be spared ? 
The pains of mind surpass the pains of sense : 
Ask then the gout, what torment is in guilt. 
The joys of sense to mental joys are mean: 
Sense on the present only feeds ; the soul 
On past and future forages for joy. 



virtue's apology. 181 

'Tis hers, by retrospect, through time to range ; 
And forward lime's great sequel to survey. 
Could human courts take vengeance on the mind, 
Axes might rust, and racivs ai.d gibbets fall : 
Guard then thy mind, and leave the rest to fate. 

LoKLNZo ! wilt thou never be a man 1 
The man is dead who for the body lives, 
Lured by the beating of his pal-re, to list 
With every lu.st that wars against his peace, 
And sets him quite at variance with himself. 
Thyself first know ; then love : a self there is 
Of virtue fond, that kindles at her charms. 
A self there is as fond of every vice, 
While every virtue wounds it to the heart : 
Humility degrades it, justice robs, 
Bless'd bounty beggars it, fair truth betrays, 
And godlike magnanimity destroys. 
This self, wlien rival to the l()rmer, scorn: 
When not in competition, kindly treat. 
Defend it, feed it ;— but when virtue bids, 
Toss it, or to the fowls, or to the tiames. 
And why 1 'Tis love of pleasure bids thee bleed: 
Comply, or own self-love extinct or blind. 
For what is vice 1 Self-love in a mistake : 
A poor blind merchant buying joys too dear. 
And virtue, what 1 'Tis self love in her wits. 
Quite skilful in the market of delight. 
Self-love's good sense is love of that dread Power, 
From whom herself and all she can enjoy. 
Other self-love is but disguised self-hate ; 
More mortal than the malice of our foes ; 
A self-hate now scarce felt ; then felt full sore. 
When being, cursed ; extinction, loud implored ; 
And every thing preferr'd to what we are. 

Yet this self-love Lorknzo makes his choice; 
And in this choice triumphant, boasts of joy. 
How is his want of happiness betray'd, 
By disaflection to the present hour I 
Imagination wanders far afield : 
The future pleases : why 1 The present pains. — 



182 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIII. 

" But tint's H secret." Yes which all men know ; 
And know fr.ini thee, discnver'd unawares. 
Thy cei<ele<s a<!jitition, restless roll 
From chcit to cheat impitient of a pau?:e; 
What i> it ? 'Tis the cradle of the soul, 
From instinct sent, to rock her in disease, 
Which her physician, reason, will not cure. 
A potir expedient I yet thy be t : and while 
It mitigates thy pain, it owns it too. 

Such are Lorknzo's wretched remedies ! 
The weak have remedies ; the wise have joys. 
Superior wisdom is superior bliss. 
And what sure mark distinguishes the wise ? 
Consistent wisdom ever wills the same ; 
Thy fickle wish is ever on the wing. 
Sick of herself is folly's character ; 
As wisdom's is a modest self-applause. 
A change of evils is thy good supreme ; 
Nor, but in motion, canst thou find thy rest. 
Man's greatest strength is shown in standing still. 
The first sure symptom of a mind in health 
Is rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home. 
False pleasure from abroad her joys imports ; 
Rich from within, and self-sustain'd, the true. 
The true is fix'd, and solid as a rock ; 
Slippery the false, and tossing as the wave. 
This, a wild wanderer on earth, like Cain ; 
That, like the fabled, self-enamor'd boy, 
Home-contemplation her supreme delight : 
She dreads an interruption from without, 
Srnit with her own condition ; and the more 
Intense she gazes, still it charms the more. 
No man is happy, till he thinks, on earth 
There breathes not a more happy than himself; 
Then envy dies, and love o'erHows on ail ; 
And love o'erflowing makes an angel here. 
Such angels, all, entitled to repose 
On Him who govern's fate. Though tempest frowns. 
Though nature shakes, how soft to lean on Heaven ! 
Tc lean on Him, on whom archangels lean ! 



virtue's apology. 183 

With inward eyes, and siieiit as the grave, 
They stand, col lectins; every beam of thought, 
Till their hearts kindle with divine delight: 
For all their Ihonghij, like angels seen of old 
In Israel's dre^in, come from, and go to heaven, 
Hence are they studious of sequester'd scenes. 
While noise and dissipition comfort thee. 

Were all men happy, revellings would cease, 
That opiate fur inqUietude within. 
LorknzdI never man was truly bless'd, 
But it composed, and gave him such a cast 
As foUy m.giit nustake for want of joy ; 
A cast unlike tiie triumph of the proud; 
A modest aspect, and a smile at heart. 
Oh for a joy iroiu thy Phii.ander's spring! 
A spring perennial, rising in the breast, 
And j)ern»aneat as pure ! no turbid stream 
Of rapturous exultation, swelling high ; 
Whica, like land floods, impetuous pour awhile. 
Then sink at once, and leave us in the mire. 
What does the man wlio transient joy prefers J 
What, but prefer the bubble to the stream ? 

Vain are all sudden sallies of delight; 
Convulsions of a weak distemper'd joy. 
Joy's a tix'd state ; a tenure, not a start. 
Bliss there is none but unprecarious bliss: 
That is the gem : sell all, and purchase that. 
Why go a begging to contingencies, 
Not gain'd uith ease, nor safely loved if gain'd ? 
At good fortuitous draw back and pause : 
Suspect it : what tliou canst ensure, enjoy ; 
And nought but what thou givest thyself is sure. 
Reason i)eri)etuates joy that reason gives, 
And niakei it as immortal as herself: 
To ujort.ils, nought immortal but their worth. 

Worth, conscious worth ! sliould absolutely reign ; 
And other joys ask leave for their approach; 
Kor, unexamined, ever leave obtain. 
Thou art all anarchy ; a mob of joys 
Wage war, and periih in intesflue broils : 



184 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIII. 

Not the ]ea«t promi'^e of internal peace ! 
No boiom conitort, or uiiborrow'cl blL>is ! 
Thy thoughts are vagabonds ; all outward bound, 
'Mid sands and rocks, and storms to cruise for plea- 
sure ; 
Ifgain'd, dear bought; and better miss'd than gain'd. 
Much pain must expiate what much pain procured. 
Fancy and sense, from an infected shore, 
Thy cargo bring ; and pestilence the prize. 
Then, such thy thirst, (insatiable thirst! 
By fond indulgence but inflamed the more !) 
Fancy still cruises, wlien poor sense is tired. 

Imagination is the Paphian shop, 
Where feeble happiness, like Vulcan, lame, 
Bids foul ideas, hi their dark recess. 
And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,) 
With wanton art those fatal arrows form, 
Wbichmurderall thy time, health, wealth, and fame. 
Wouldst thou receive them, other thoughts there are, 
On angel wing de.>cending from above. 
Which these, with art divine, would counterwork, 
And form cele>tial armor for thy peace. 

In this is seen imagination's guilt: 
But who can count her follies '? She betrays thee^ 
To think in grandeur there is someting great. 
For works of curious art and ancient fame 
Thy genius hungers, elegantly pain'd : 
And foreign climes mu>t cater for thy taste. 
Hence, what disaster ! — Though the price was paid, 
That persecuting priest, the I'urk of Rome, 
Whose foot, (ye gods !) though cloven, must be kiss'd, 
Detain'd thy dinner on the i^atian shore ; 
(Such is the fate of honest Protestants !) 
And poor magniricence is starved to death. 
Hence just resentment, indignation, ire ! 
Be paciried : if outward things are great, 
'Tis magnanimity great things to scorn ; 
Pompous e.xpenses, and parades august. 
And courts, that insalubrious soil to peace. 
True happiness ne'er enter'd at an eye ; 



virtue's apology. 185 

True happiness resides in things unseen. 
No smiles of fortune ever ble-^s'd the bad, 
Nor can her frowns rob innocence of joys ; 
That jewel wanting, triple crowns are poor: 
So tell his Holiness, and be revenged. 

Pleasure, we both agree, is man's chief good: 
Our only contest, what deserves the name. 
Give pleasure's name to nought but what has pass'd 
Th' authentic seal of reason, (which, like Yorkk, 
Demurs on what it passes,) and deties 
The tooth of time ; when past, a pleasure still ; 
Dearer on trial, lovelier *'or its age, 
And doubly to be prized, as it promotes 
Our future, while it forms our present joy. 
Some jo)s the future overcast ; and some 
Throw all. their beams that way, aaid gild the tomb. 
Some joys endear eternity ; some give 
Abhorr'd annihilation dreadful charms. 
Are rival joys contending for thy cho.ce 1 
Consult ihy whole existence, and be safe : 
That oracle will put all doubt to tlight. 
Short is the lesson, though my lecture long ; 
Be good — and let Heaven answer for the rest. 

Yet, with a sigh o'er all mankind, 1 grant, 
In this our day of proof, our land of hope. 
The good man has his clouds that intervene ; 
Clouds that obscure his sublunary day, 
But never conquer : e'en the best must own, 
Patience and resignation are the pillars 
Of human peace on earth. The pillars, these : 
But those of Seth not more remote from thee, 
Till this heroic lesson thou hast learn'd, 
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain. 
Fired at the prospect of unclouded bliss, 
Heaven in reversion, like the sun, as yet 
Beneath th' horizon, cheers us in the world: 
It'^heds, on souls susceptible of light. 
The glorious dawn of our eternal day. 

" 'I'his (says Lorenzo) is a fair harangue ; 
But, can harangues blow back strong nature's stream ; 



186 THE COMPLAINT. NlUHT VIII 

Or stem the tide Heaven pushes through our veins, 
Which sweeps away man's iuipotent resolves, 
And lays his hibour level with the world ?" 

Themselves men make their comment on mankind; 
And think nought is, but what they find at home : 
Thus weakness to chimera turns the truth. 
Nothing romantic has the muse prescribed. 
*Above, Lorenzo saw the man of earth, 
The mortal man ; and wretched was the sight. 
To balance that, to comfort, and exalt, 
Now see the man immortiil ; him, I mean. 
Who lives as sucli ; whose heart, full bent on heaven, 
Leans all that way, his bias to the stars, 
The world's dark shades, in contrast set, shall raise 
His lustre nnore ; though bright, without a foil : 
Observe his awful portrait, and admire ; 
Nor stop at wonder: imitate, and live. 

Some angel guide my i)encil, while I draw, 
Wliat nothing less than angel can exceed, 
A man on earth devoted to the skies ; 
Like ship? in sea, while in, above the world. 
With aspect mild, and elevated eye, 
Behold him seated in a mount serene. 
Above tlie fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; 
All the black cares and tumults of this life, 
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, ■ 
Excite his pity, not impair his peace. 
Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred and the slave, 
A mingled mob ! a wandering lierd ! he sees, 
Bewilder'd in the vale ; in ail unlike : 
His full reverse in. all ! What higher praise 1 
What stronger denmnstration of the right 1 

The present, all their care ; the future, his. 
When public welfare calls, or private want, 
They give to fame ; his bounty he conceals. 
Their virtues varnish nature ; his exalt. 
Mankind's esteem they court ; and he, his own. 
Theirs, the wild cliase of false felicities ; 

*Ixi a former night. 



virtue's apology. 187 

His, the composed possession of the true, 
Alike tliroughout is his consistent peace , 
All of one color, and an even thread ; 
While party-color'd siueds of happiness, 
With hideous gaps between, patch up for them 
A luadnian's rube ; each puli' of fortune blows 
The tatters by, and show their nakedness. 

He sees witli other eyes thaa theirs : where they 
Belrold a sun, he spies a Deity : 
What makes them only smile, makes him adore. 
Where they see mountains, lie but atoms sees; 
An empire in his balance, weighs a grain. 
They things terrestrial worship as divine ; 
His hopes inuiiortal blow them by, as dust 
That dims his sight, and shortens his survey, 
Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound. 
Titles and honors (if they prove his fate) 
He lays aside, to find his dignity: 
No dignity they find in aught besides. 
They triumph in externals, (which conceal 
Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipse. 
Himself too much he prizes to be proud. 
And nothing thinks so great in man, as man. 
Too dear he holds his interest, to neglect 
Another's welfare, or his right invade : 
Their interest, like a lion, lives on prey. 
They kindle at the shadow of a wrong : 
Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on heaven, 
Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe : [peace. 

Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his 
A cover'd heart their character defends ; 
A cover'd heart denies him half his praise. 
With nakedness his innocence agrees ; 
While their broad foliage testifies their fall. 
Their no-joys end where his full feast begins ; 
His joys create, theirs murder, future bliss. 
To triumph in existence his alone ; 
And his alone triumphantly to think 
His true existence is not yet begun. 
His glorious course was, yesterday, complete ; 



188 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIll. 

Death, then, was welcome ; yet life still is sweet. 

But nothing charms Lorknzo, like the firm, 
Undaunted breast. And whose is that high praise 1 
Thej' yield to pleasure, though they danger brave, 
And show no fortitude but in the field : 
If there they show it, 'tis for glory shown ; 
]Vor will that cordial always man their hearts. 
A cordial his sustains that cannot fail : 
By pleasure unsubdued, unbroke by pain, 
He shares in that Omnipotence he trusts ; 
All bearing, all attempting, till he falls 1 
And when he falls, writes Vici on his shield: 
From magnanimity, all fear above ; 
From nobler recompense, above applause ; 
Which owes to man's short outlook all its charms. 

Backward to credit what he never felt, 
LoRKNzo cries — " Where shines this miracle 1 
From what root rises this immortal man ?" 
A root that grows not in Lorenzo's ground; 
The root dissect, nor wonder at the fiovver. 

He follows nature (not like thee,*) and shows us 
An uninverted system of a man. 
His appetite wears reason's golden chain, 
And finds, in due restraint, its luxury. 
His passion, like an eagle well reclaim'd. 
Is taught to fiy at nought but infinite. 
Patient his hope, unanxious is his care. 
His caution fearless, and his grief (if grief 
The gods ordain) a stranger to despair. 
And why ? Because afl'ection, more than meet, 
His vvisdom leaves not disengaged from lieaven. 
Those se<;ondary goods that smUe on earth, 
He, loving in proportion, loves in peace. 
They most the world enjoy who least admire. 
His understanding 'scapes the common cloud 
Of fumes, arising from a boiling breast. 
His head is clear, because his heart is cool, 
By worldly competitions uninflamed. 

*See page 180, line 18. 



virtue's apology. J89 

The moderate moveiueuts of his soul admit 
Diitinci ideas, and matured debate, 
An eye impartial, and an even scale ; 
Whence judgment sound, anil nnrepenting choice. 
Thu>, in a double sense, the good are wi.e ; 
On its own duhgliill \vi er than tlie world. 
What, then, the world ? it niu»t be doubly weak: 
Strange truth! as soon would they believe tiieir creed. 

Yet thus it is ; nor otherwise can be : 
So I'ar from auglit romantic wiuit 1 sing. 
Bliss has no being, virtue has no strength, 
But from the pro-pect of immortal life. 
Who think earth all, or (what weighs just the same) 
Who care no further, must prize w hat it yields ; 
Fond of its fancies, proud ol its parades. 
Who thinks earth nothing, can't its charms admire ; 
lie can't a foe, though most malignant, hate. 
Because that hate would prove las greater foe. 
'Tis hard lor them (yet who so loutliy boast 
Good will to men I) to love their dearest friend : 
For, may not he invade their guud supreme. 
Where the least jealously turns love to gall 1 
All shines to them, that for a season shines : 
Each act, each thought, he questions, " What its 
Its color \\ hat, a thousand ages hence ? " [weight, 
And what it there appears, he deems it now. 
Hence, pure are the recesses of his soul. 
The godlike man has nothing to conceal. 
His virtue, constitutionally deep, 
Has habit's hrmuess. and allection's flame : 
Angels, allied, descend to feed the fire ; 
And death, which others slays makes him a god. 

And now, Loiiknz(j bigot of this world I 
Wont to disdain poor bigots caught by Heaven ! 
Suind by thy scorn, and be reduced to nought: 
For what art tiiou 1 Thou boaster ! while thy glare, 
Thy gaudy grandeur, and mere worldly worth, 
Like a broad mist, at distance, strikes us mosf, 
And, like a mist, is nothing when at hand ; 
His merit; like a mountain, on approach. 



190 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIII, 

Swells more, and rises nearer lo the skies, 
By promise now, and, liy i)ossesion. soon 
(Too soon, too mnch it crinnot be) his own. 

From this thy just annihilation rise, 
LoRKN/.o! ri^e'lo sometliinfi, hy reply. 
The world, thy client, listens, and expects ; 
And longs lo crown thee with immortal praise. 
Canst thou he silent 1 No ; Cor wit is thine ; 
And wit talks most, when least she has to say, 
And reason interrnpts not her career, 
She'll say — That mists a hove the mountains rise ; 
And witli a thousand pleasantries amuse : 
She'll sparkle, puzzle, flutter, raise a dust, 
And fly conviction in the dust she raised. 
Wit, how (leliciou> to man's dainty taste I 
'Tis precious, as the vehicle of sense ; 
But, as its sui)stitute, a dire disease. 
Pernicious talent! flatter'd by the world, 
By the blind world, which thinks the talent rare- 
Wisdom is rare, Lorenzo I wit abounds: 
Passion can give it ; sometimes wine inspires 
The lucky flash ; and madness rarely fails. 
Whatever cause the spirit strongly stirs 
Confers the bays, and rivals thy renown. 
For thy renown, 'twere well was this the worst: 
Chance often hits it ; and, to pique thee more. 
See, dulness, blundering on vivacities. 
Shakes her sage head at the calamity, 
AVhich has exposed, and let her down to thee. 
But wisdom, awful wisdom ! which inspects, 
Discerns, conipares, weighs, separates, infers, 
Seizes the right, and holds it to the last ; 
How rare ! In senates, synods, sought in vain ; 
Or, if there found, 'tis sacred to the few ; 
While a lewd prostitute to multitudes. 
Frequent, as fatal, wit. In civil life. 
Wit makes an enterpriser ; sense, a man: 
Wit hates authority ; commotion loves, 
And thinks herself the lightning of the storm. 
In states, 'tis dangerous ; in religion, death. 



VIRTlh's APni.OOY 191 

Shall wit turn Ciirinian, when the dr.li believe? 

Sense is our hehiiel, wit is i)iit tlie iiliime : 

The Illume exuo.-es, 'tis our helmet saves. 

Sense is the diamond, weijjhty, solid, soiind ; 

When cut by wit, it casts a hr'^ihter beam ; 

Yet, wit ;;p irt, it is a diamond still. 

Wit, \\ idow'd of good sense, is worse than nought; 

It hoists more sail to run against a rock. 

Thus, half a Ciiksterfield is quite a fool ; 

Whom dull fools scorn, and ble.s their want of wit 

IJovv ruinous the rock I warn thee shun, 
Wlierc Sirens sit, to sing thee to thy fate I 
A joy, in which our reason bears no part, 
Is but a s(irrow, tickling ere it slings. 
Let not the cooings of the world allure ihee ; 
Which of her lovers ever found her true ? 
IJappy : of this bad world who little know I — 
And yet, we much must know her, to be safe. 
To know the world, not love her, is thy point: 
She gives but little, nor that little long. 
There is, I grant, a triumph of the pulse; 
A dance of spirits, a mere froth of joy, 
Our thoughtless agitation's idle child, 
That mantles high, that sparkle, and expires, 
Leaving the soul more vapid than before ; 
An animal ovation I such as Isolds 
No commerce with our reason, but subsists 
On juices, through the well-toned tubes well strain'd ; 
A nice niacliine ! scarce ever tuned aright ; 
And when it jars— thy Sirens sing no more. 
Thy dance is done ; the deini-god is thrown 
(Short apotheosis '.) beneath the man, 
In coward gloom immersed, or fell despair. 

Art thou yet dull enough despair to dread, 
And startle at destruction 1 If thou art, 
Accept a buckler, take it to the held ; 
(A held of battle is this mortal life !) 
When danger threatens, lay it ou thy heart; 
A single sentence, proof against the world. 
" Soul, body, fortune ! every good pertains 



192 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT VIII 

To one of these : but prize not all alike : 
The goods of fortune to thy body's health, 
Body to soul, and soul submit to God." 
Wouldsl thou build lasting happiness ? do this : 
Th' inverted pyramid can never stand. 

Is this truth doubtful 1 It outshines the sun; 
Nay, the sun shines not, but to show us this, 
The single lesson of mankind on earth. 
And yet — yet what ? No news ! mankind Is mad ! 
Such mighty numbers list against the right, 
(And what can't numbers, when bewitch'd, achieve !) 
They talk themselves to something like belief, 
That all earth's joys are theirs : as Athens' fool 
Grinn'd from the port, on every sail his own. 

They grin ; but \\herefore? and how long the laugh? 
Half-ignorance, their mirth ; and half, a lie : 
To cheat the world antl cheat them- elves, they smile. 
Hard either task ! The most abandon'd own, 
That others, if abandon'd, are undone : 
Then, for themselves, the moment reason wakes, 
(And Providence denies it long repose,) 
Oh how laborious is their gaiety ! 
They scarce can swallow their ebullient spleen, 
Scarce jiiu.-ler patience tosuiiport the farce, 
And pump sad laughter till the curtain falls. 
Scarce, did I say '! some cannot sit it out ; 
(Jft their own daring hands the curtain dravi^, 
And show us what their joy, by their despair. 

The clotted hair ! gored breast ! blaspheming eye, 
Its impious fury still alive in death ! 
Shut, shut the shocking scene. — But Heaven denies 
A cover to such guilt ; and so should man. 
Look round, Lokkkzo ! see the reeking blade, 
Th' envenom'd phial, and the fatal ball ; 
The strangling cord, and sullocating stream; 
The loathsome rottenness, aiuf foul decays 
From raging riot, (slower suicide I) 
And pritle in these, nu)re execrable still ; 
How horrid all to thought! — but horrors, these, 
That vouch the truth ; and aid my feeble song. 



virtle's apology. 193'. 

From vice, sense, fancy, no tnan can be bless'd : 
Bliss is too great to lodge within an hour. 
When an innnortal Iteing aims at bliss, 
Duration is essential to the name. 
Oh for a joy from reason ! joy from that, 
Which maives man man ; and, exercised aright, 
Will make him more : a bounteous joy ! that gives, 
And promises ; that sveaves, with art divine. 
The richest prospect into present peace : 
A joy ambitious ! joy in coimnon held 
With thrones ethereal, and their greater far : 
A joy high-privileged from chance, lime, death ! 
A joy whicli death shall double, judgment crown! 
Crown'd higher, and still higher, at each stage, 
Through bless'd eternity's long day ; yet still, 
\ot more remote from sorrow than from Him, 
W'hose lavish hand, whose love stupendous, pours 
So much of Deity on guilty dust. 
There, O my Lucia. I may I meet thee there, 
Where not tliy presence can improve my bliss ! 

Affects not this the sages of the world ? 
Can nought affect them, but what fools them too 1 
Eternity, dejiending on an hour, 
Makes serious thought man's wisdom, joy, and praise. 
Nor need you blush (though sometimes your designs 
May shun the light) at your designs on heaven I 
Sole point ! where over bashful is your blame. 
Are you not wise 1 — You know you are : yet hear 
One truth, amid your numerous schemes, mislaid, 
Or overlook'd, or thrown aside, if seen : 
" Our schemes to plan by this world, or the next, 
Is the sole difference between wise and fool." , 
All worthy men will weigh you in the scale ; 
What wonder, then, if they pronounce you light? 
Is their esteem alone not worth your care 1 
Accept my simple scheme of cununon sense ; 
Thus save your fame, and make two vvorlds your own. 

The world replies not ; — but the world persists ; 
And puts the cause off to the longest day. 
Planning evasions for the day of doom. 
13 



394 THE COMPLAINT. NIGHT Vlti. 

So far, at that rehearing, from redress, 
They then turn witnesses against themselves. 
Hear that, Lorenzo I nor be wise to-ii)orrow : 
Haste, liaste ! a man, by nature, is in haste ; 
For wiio shall answer tor another hour 1 
'Tis highly prudent to make one sure friend; 
And that thou canst not do this side the skies. 

Ye sons of earth ! (nor willing to be more !) 
Since verse you think from priestcraft somewhat free, 
Thus, in an age so gay, the uuise plain truths [prose) 
(Truths, which, at church, you might have heard in 
Has ventured into light; well pleased the verse 
Should be forgot, if you the truths retain ; 
And crown her with your welfare, not your praise. 
But praise she need not fear : 1 see my fate ; 
And headlong le;ip, like Curtius, down the gulf. 
Since many an ample volume, mighty tome, 
Must die ; and die unwept ; O thou minute, 
Devoted page ! go forth among thy foes ; 
Go, nobly proud of martyrdom for truth, 
And die a double death. Mankind incensed, 
Denies thee long to live : nor shalt thou rest, 
When thou art dead : in Stygian shades arraign'd 
By Lucifer, as traitor to his throne ; 
And bold blasphemer of his friend, — the World : 
The world, whose legions cost him slender pay, 
And volunteers around his banners swarm : 
Prudent as Prussia in her zeal for Gaul. 

" Are all, then, fools 1" Lorenzo cries. Yes, all, 
But such as hold this doctrine : (new to thee ;) 
" The mother of true wisdom is the will : " 
The noblest intellect a fool without it. 
World-wisdom nuich has done, and more may do, 
In arts and sciences, in wars and peace : 
But art and science, like thy wealth, will leave thee. 
And make thee twice a beggar at thy death. 
This is the most indulgence can afford ; — 
" Thy wdsdom all can do but— make thee wise." 
Nor think this censure is severe on thee : 
Satan, thy master, I dare call a dunce. 



liKistit tfje "Ninti) antj 3Lu^t 



THE CONSOLATION: 

COXTAIKIXG, AMOXG OTHER THINGS, 

1. A MORAL SURVEY OF THE NOCTURNAL HEAVENa 
II. A NIGHT ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 



HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE, ONE OF HIS 
majesty's PRINCIPAL SKCRETARIK6 OF STATE. 



4 Fatis contraria fata rependens. — Virg. 

As when a traveller a long day pass'd 
In painful search of what he cannot find, 
At night's approach, content with the next cot, 
There ruminates awhile his labor lost ; 
Then cheers his he^irt with what his fate affords, 
And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, 
Till the due season call him to repose : 
Thus I, longlravell'd in the ways of men, 
And dancing, with the rest, the giddy maze, 
Where disappointment smiles at hope's careef ; 
VVarn'd hy the languor of life's evening ray, 
At length have housed me in an hundiie shed ; 
Where, future wandering banish'd from my thought, 
And wailing, patient, tJie sweet hour of rest, 
1 chase the moments with a serious song. 
Song soothes our pains ; and age has pains to soothe. 
When age, care, crime, and friends embraced at 
heart. 
Torn from my bleeding breast,and death's dark shade, 
Which hovers o'er me, quench the ethereal fire ; 
Canst thou, O Night 1 indulge one labor more 1 
One labor more indulge I then sleep, my strain ! 
195 



1D6 THE CONSOLATIOH. NIGHT IX. 

Till haply waked by Raphael's golden lyre, 
Where night, death, age, care, crime, and sorrow 
To bear a jiart in everlasting lays ; [cease ; 

Though far, far higher set, in aim, I trust, 
Symphonius to this humble jirclude here. 

Has not the muse asserted pleasures pure, 
Like those above ; e.xpbiding other joys 7 
Weigh what was urged, Lorenzo ! fairly weigh,' 
And tell me, hast thou cause to triumidi still 1 
I think, thou wilt (inbear a boast so bold, 
But if, beneath the favor of mistake, 
Thy smile's sincere ; not more sincere can be 
Lorenzo's smile than my compassion for him. 
The sick in body call for aid ; the sick 
In mind are covetous of more di-ease ; 
And when at worst, they dream themselves quite 
To know ourselves diseased is half our cure. [well. 
When nature's blush by custom is wiped otF, 
And conscience deaden'd by repeated strokes, 
Has into manners naturalized our crimes ; 
The curse of curses is, our curse to love ; 
To triumph in the blackness of our guilt, 
(As Indians glory in the deepest jet,) 
And throw aside our senses with our peace. 

But, grant no guilt, no shame, no least alloy ; 
Grant joy and giory quite unsullied shone ; 
Yet still, it ill deserves Lorenzo's heart. 
No joy, no glory glitters in thy sight. 
But, through the thin partition of an hour, 
I see its sables wove by destiny ; 
And that in sorrow buried ; this, in shame ; 
While howling furies ring the doleful knell ; 
And conscience, now so soft thou scarce canst hear 
Her whispers, echoes her eternal peal. 

Where the prime actors of the last year's scene : 
Their port so i)roud, their buskin, and their plume ? 
How many sleep, who kept the world awake 
With lustre and with noise ! Has death proclaim'd 
A truce, and hung his sated lance on high ? 
'Tis brandish 'd still ; nor shall the present year 



THE CONSOLATION. 197 

Be more tenacious of her human leaf, 
Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall. 

But needless monuments to wake the thought; 
Life's gayest scenes speak man's mortality; 
Though in a style more florid, full as' plain 
As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs. 
What are our noblest ornaments but deaths 
Turn'd flatterers of life, in paint, or marble. 
The well stain'd canvass, or the featured stone 1 
Our fathers grace, or rather haunt, the scene : 
Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead. 
" Frofess'd diversions ! cannot these escape 1 " 
Far from it : these present us with a shroud ; 
And talk of death, like garlands o'er a grave. 
As some bold plunderers, lor buried wealth, 
We ransack tombs for pastime ; from the dust 
Call up the sleeping hero ; bid him tread 
The scene for our amusement : how like gods 
We sit ; and, wrajjp'd in immortality. 
Shed generous tears on wretches born to die ; 
Their fate deploring to forget our own 1 

What all the ptimps and triuniphs of our lives, 
But legacies in blossom 1 Our lean soil, 
Luxiu-iant grown, and rank in vanities, 
From friends interr'd beneath ; a rich manure ! 
Like other worms we banquet on the dead : 
Like other worms, shall we crawl on, nor know 
Our present frailties or approaching fate 1 

LoRKNZO : such the glories of the world I 
What is the world itsell ? thy world ? — A grave ! 
Where is the dust that has not been alive 1 
The spade, the plough disturb our ancestors ; 
From human nioulil we reap our daily bread. 
The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes, 
And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons. 
O'er devastation we blind revels keep; 
While buried towns support the dancer's heel. 
The moist of human frame the sun exhales : 
Winds scatter through the mighty void the dry; 
Earth repossesses part ot wliat she gave, 



198 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

And the freed spirit mounts on wings of fire ; 
Each 6 lenient partakes our scatler'd spoils ; 
As nature, wide, our ruins spread : man's death 
Inhabits all things but the thought of man. 

Nor man alone ; his breathing bust expires, 
His tomb is mortal ; eminres die. Where now 
The Roman 1 Greek 1 Tiiey stalk, an empty name ! 
Yet few regard them in this useful light ; 
Though half our learning is their epitaph. 
When down thy vale, unlock'd by midnight thought, 
That loves to wander in thy sunless realms, 

death ! I stretch my view ; what visions rise ! 
What triumphs ! toils imperial ! arts divine ! 

In wither'd laurels glide before my sight : 

What lengths of far-famed ages, billow'd high 

With human agitation, roll along 

In unsubstantial images of air ! 

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, 

Whispervng faint echoes of the world's applause, 

With penitential aspect, as they pass. 

All point at earth, and hiss at human pride, 

The wisdouj of the wise, and prancin^s of the great 

But, O Lorenzo ! far the rest above, 
Of ghastly nature and enornious size, 
One form assaults my sight, and chills my blood, 
And shakes my franie. Of one departed world 

1 see the mighty shadow ; oosy wreath 
And dismal seaweed crown her : o'er her urn 
Reclined, she weeps her desolated realms 
And bloated sons : and weeping, prophesies 
Another's dissolution, soon, in rlames. 

But, like Cassandra, prophesies in vain; 
In vain to niany ; not, 1 trust, to thee. 

For, know'st thou not, or art thou loth to know, 
The great decree, the counsel of the skies 1 
Deluge and conliagration, dreadful powers ! 
Prime ministers of vengeance ! chaiji'd in caves 
Distinct, apart the giant furies roar ; 
Apart ; or such their horrid rage for ruin. 
In luutual contlict would they rise, and wage 



TEE CONSOLATION. 199 

Eternal war, till one wan quite ilevour'd. 
But not for this orduin'd the'.r boundless rage: 
\Mieu Heaven's interior instruments of wrath, 
War, famine, pestilence, are found too weak 
To !^c(jurge a world for her enornnms crimes, 
These are let loose alternate : down they rush, 
Swift and tempestuous, from the eternal throne, 
With uresi;tible commission arm'd, 
The \\ urld, in vain corrected, to destroy, 
And ease creation of the shocking scene. 

Seest thou, Lorenzo I what depends on man? 
The fate of nature ; as ibr man, her birth. 
Earth's actors change earth's transitory scenes, 
And make creation groan with human guilt. 
How must it groan in a new deluge \\ helm'd, 
But not of waters ! At the destined hour, 
By the loud trumpet summon'd to the charge, 
See all the formidable sons of tire, 
Eruptions, e;irihquakes, comets, lightnings, play 
Their various eiigines : all at once disgorge 
Their blazing magazines ; and take, by storm. 
This ijoor terrestrial citadel of man. 

Amazing period 1 w hen each mountain height 
Outbiu"ns Vesuvius ; rocks eternal pour 
Their melted mass, as rivers once they pour'd; 
Stars rush ; and tinal ruin fiercely drives 
Her ploughshare o'er creation ! — while aloft, 
More than astonishment: if more can be I 
Far other tirmament than e'er was seen, 
Than e'er was thought by man ! far other stars ! 
Stars animate, that govern these of fire ; 
Far other sun ! — A Sun, oh, how unlike 
Tiie Babe at Bethie'm! how unlike the Maa 
Tiiat groan'd on Calvary ! Yet He it is ; 
That man of sorrows ! oh, how changed I What 
In grandeur terrible, all heaven descends ! [pomp ! 
And gods, ambitious, triumph in his train. 
A swift archangel, with his golden wing. 
As blots and clouds, that darfcen and disgrace 
The scene divine, sweeps stars and suns aside. 



200 THE CONSOLATION. NIOHT TX. 

Arid now, all dross removed, heaven's ovvn pure day, 
Full on the confines of our ether, flames i 
"While (dreadful contrast !) far, how far beneath! 
Hell, bursting, belches forth her blazing seas, 
And storms sulphureous ; her voracious jaws 
Expanding wide, and roaring for her prey. 

Lorenzo ! welcome to this scene ! the last 
In nature's course ; the first in wisdom's thought. 
This strikes, if aught can strike thee ; this awakes 
The most supine ; this snatches man from death. 
Bouse, rouse, Lorenzo, then, and follow me, 
Where truth, the most momentous man can hear, 
Loud calls my soul, and ardor wings her flight. 
£ find my inspiration in my theme : 
The grandeur of my subject is my muse. 

At midnight, when mankind is wrap'd in peace, 
And worldly fancy feeds on golden dreams ; 
To give more dread to man's most dreadful hour, 
At midnight, 'tis presumed, this pomp will burst 
From tenfold darkness ; sudden as the spark 
From smitten steel ; from nitrous grain, the blaze. 
Man, starting from his couch, shall sleep no more I 
The day is broke which never more shall close ! 
Above, around, beneath, amazement all ! 
Terror and glory join'd in their extremes ! 
Our God in grandeur, and our world on fire ! 
All nature struggling in the pangs of death ! 
Dost thou not hear her 1 Dost tbou not deplore 
Her strong convulsions and her final groan "? 
Where are we now 1 Ah me I the ground is gone 
On which we stood : Lorenzo ! while thou mayst, 
Provide more firm support, or sink for ever ! 
Where 1 how t from whence ? Vain hope ! it is too 
Where, where for shelter shall the guilty fly, [late ! 
When consternation turns the good man pa le ? 

Great day ! for which all other days were made ; 
For which earth rose from chaos, man from earth ; 
And an eternity, the date of gods, 
Descended on poor earth-created man ! 
Great day of dread, decision, and despair! 



THE CONSOLATION. 201 

At thought of thee, each subhmary wish 
Lets go its eager grasp, and drops tlie world ; 
And catches at each reed of hope in heaven. 
At thought of thee ! — And art thou absent thenl 
Lorenzo ! no ; 'tis here ; it is begun ; — 
Already is begun the grand assize, 
In tliee, in all. Deputed conscience scales 
The dread tribunal, and forestalls our doom: 
Forestalls : and, by forestalling, proves it sure. 
Why on himself should man void judgment passi 
Js idle nature laughing at her sons ? 
Who conscience sent her sentence will support: 
And God above assert that God in man. 

Thrice happy they ! that enter now the court 
Ileaveu opens in their bosoms. But, how rare, 
Ah me ! that magnanimity how rare ! 
What hero like tlie man who stands himself; 
Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; 
Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, 
Kesohed to silence future murmurs there 7 
'i'he coward tlies ; and. Hying, is undone. 
(Art thou a coward ? No.) The coward flies ; 
Thinks, but thinks slightly ; asks, but fears to know ; 
Ask-s, " What is truth 1 " with Pilate ; and retires ; 
Dissolves the court, and mingles with the throng : 
Asylum sad ! from reason, hope, and heaven ! 

iShall all but man look out with ardent eye, 
For tliat great day which was ordain'd for man? 
A day of consummation ! niark supreme 
(If men are wise) of human thought ; nor least, 
Or in the sight of angels or their King ! 
Angels, whose radiant circles, height o'er height. 
Order o'er order rising, blaze o'er blaze, 
As in a theatre, surround this scene, 
Intent on man, and anxious for his fate. 
Angels look out for thee ; for thee, their Lord, 
To vindicate his glory ; and for thee, 
Creation universal calls aloud, 
'I'o disinvolve the moral world, and give 
To nature's renovation brighter charms. 



202 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

Shall man alone, whose fate, whose final fate 
Hangs on that hour, exclude it from his thought 1 
I think pf nothing else ; I see ! I feel it ! 
All nature, like an earthquake, trembling round I , 
All deities, like summer swarms, on wing ! 
All basking in the full meridian blaze ! 
I see the Jldge enthroned ! the flaming guard! 
The volume open'd ! open'd every heart ! 
A sunbeam pointing out each secret thought! 
No patron 1 intercessor none ! now pass'd 
The sweet, the clement, uieditorial hour ! 
For guilt no plea ! to pain no pause ! no bound ! 
Inexorable all 1 and all extreme ! 

Nor man alone ; the foe of God and man, 
From his dark den, blaspheming, drags his chain, 
And rears his brazen front, with thunder scarr'd ; 
Receives his sentence, and begins his hell. 
All vengeance past now seems abundant grace: 
Like meteors in a stormy sky, how roll 
His baleful eyes ! he curses whom he dreads ; 
And deems it the first moment of his fall. 

'Tis pre.sent to my thought !— and yet, where is it ? 
Angel.; can't tell me ; angels cannot guess 
The period ; from created beings lock'd 
In darkness. But the process and the place 
Are less obscure ; for these may man inquire. 
Say, tiiou great close of human hopes and fears ! 
Great key of hearts ! great finisher of fates ! 
Great end ! and great beginning ! say,where art thou 1 
Art thou in tinie or in eternity 1 
Nor in eternity nor time I find thee. 
These, as two monarchs, on theu' borders meet, 
(Monarchs of all elapsed or unarrived !) 
As in debate, how best their powers allied. 
May swell the grandeur, or discharge the wrath 
Of Him who both their monarchies obey. 

Time, this vast fabric for him built, (and doom'd 
With him to fall,) now bursting o'er his head ; 
His lamp, the sun, extinguish'd ; from beneath 
The frown of hideous darkness, calls his sons 



i 



THE CONSOLATION. 203 

From their long slumber; from earth's heaving womb, 
To second birth ; contemporary throng ! 
Roused at one call, upstarting from one bed, 
Press'd in one crowd, appall'd with one amaze, 
He turns them o'er, Eternity I to thee. 
Then (as a king deposed disdains to live,) 
He falls on his own scythe ; nor falls alone ; 
His greatest foe falls with him : Time, and ho 
Who murder'd all Time's offspring, Death, expire. 

Time was ! Eternity now reigns alone : 
Awful Eternity ! oflended queen I 
And lier resentment to mankind how just! 
With kind intent, soliciting access, 
How often has she knock'd at human hearts ! 
Rich to repay their hospitality ; 
How often call'd ! and with the voice of God ! 
Yet bore repulse, excluded as a cheat I 
A dream ! while foulest foes found welcome there ! 
A dream, a cheat, now, all things but her smile. 

For, lo ! her twice ten thousand gates thrown wide 
As thrice from Indus to the frozen pole, 
With banners streaming as the comet's blaze, 
And clarions, louder than the deep in storms, 
Sonorous as inunortal breath can blow. 
Pour forth their myriads, potentates and powers, 
Of light, of darkness ; in a middle field. 
Wide as creation ! populous as wide ! 
A neutral region ! there to niark tli' event 
Of that great drama, whose i)receding scenes 
Disdain'd them' close spectators through a length 
Of ages, ripening to this grand result ; 
Ages, as yet unnuniber'd, but by God ; 
Who, now, pronouncing sentence, vindicates 
The rights of virtue and his own renown, 

Eternity, the various sentence pass'd. 
Assigns the sever'd throng di-^tinct abodes. 
Sulphureous or ambrosial. What ensues ? 
The deed predominant ! the deetl of deeds ! 
Which makes a hell of hell, a heaven of heavea. 
The goddess, with determined aspect, turns 



204 THE CONSOIATIOV. NIGHT IX. 

Her adamantine key's enormous size 
Through destiny's inextricable wards, 
Deep driving every bolt, on both their fates : 
Then from the crystal battlements of heaven, 
Down, down she hurls it through the dark profound, 
Ten thousand thousand fathom ; there to rust, 
And ne'er unlock her resolution more. 
The deep resounds ; and hell, through all her glooms, 
Returns, in groans, the melancholy roar. 

Oh, how unlike the chorus of the skies ! 
Oh, how unlike those shouts of joy, that shake 
The whole ethereal ! how the concave rings I 
Nor strange ! when deities their voice exalt; 
And louder far than when creation rose. 
To see creation's godlike aim and end 
So well accomplished I so divinely closed! 
To see the mighty Dramatist's last act, 
(As meet,) in glory rising o'er the rest. 
No fancied god, a God indeed descends. 
To solve all knots ; to strike the moral home ; 
To throw full day on darkest scenes of time ; 
To clear, commend, exalt, and crown the whole. 
Hence, in one peal of loud, eternal praise, 
The cha' m'd spectators thunder their applause ; 
And the vast void, beyond, applause resounds. 

^HAT THEN AM I 1 

Amidst applauding worlds, 
And worlds celestial, is there found on earth, 
A peevish, dissonant, rebellious string. 
Which jars in the grand chorus, and complains 1 
Censure on thee, Lorenzo, I suspend. 
And turn it on myself; how greatly due ! ' 
All, all is right by God ordain'd or done : 
And who but God resumed the friends He gavel 
And have I been complaining, then, so long 1 
Complaining of his favors ; pain, and death 1 
Who, without pain's advice, would e'er be good? 
Who, without death, but would be good in vain ? 
Pain is to save from pain, all punishment. 
To make for peace ; and death, to save from death ; 



THE COKSOtATIOrJ. 205 

And second death, to guard hiitnortal life ; 
To rouse the CMreless, the presumptuous awe, 
And turn the tide of soiih another way : 
By the same tenderness divine ordain'd 
That planted Eden, and hiffh-bloom'd for man, 
A fairer Eden, endless, in the skies. 

Heaven gives us friends to bless the present scene ; 
Resumes theh>, to prepare us for the next. 
All evils natural are moral goods : 
All discipline, indulgence, on the whole. 
None are unhappy; all have cause to smile, 
But such as to themselves that cause deny. 
Our faults are at the bottom of our pains ; 
Error, in act or judgment, is the source 
Of endless sighs. We sin, or we mistake, 
And nature tax, when false opinion stings. 
Let im))ious grief be banish'd, joy indulged ; 
But chiefly then, when grief puts in her claim. 
Joy from the joyous, frequently betrays ; 
Oft lives in vanity, and dies in woe. 
Joy amidst ills corroborates, exalts ; 
'Tis joy and conquest : joy and virtae too. 
A noble fortitude in ills delights 
Heaven, earth, ourselves ; 'tis duty, glory, peace. 
Affliction is the good man's shining scene : 
Prosperity conceals his brightest ray : 
As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man. 
Heroes in battle, pilots in the storm. 
And virtue in calamities, admire. 
The crown of manhood, is a winter-joy ; 
An evergreen, that stands the northern blast, 
And blossoms in the rigor of our fate. 

'Tis a prime part of happiness to know 
How much unhappiness must prove our lot ; 
A part which few possess ! I'll pay life's tax 
Without one rebel murmur, from this hour, 
Nor think it misery to be a man : 
Who thinks it is shall never be a god. 
Some ills we wish for, when we wish to live. 



206 The coNsotATioN. night ix* 

What spoke proud passion? " * Wish my being 
lost 7" 
Presuniptuoiis ! blasphemous ! absurd ! and false I 
I'he triumph of my soul is, that I am ; 
And therefore that I may be — What 1 Lorenzo 1 
Look invvard, and look deep ; and deeper still ; 
Unfathomably deep our treasure runs 
In golden veins, through all eternity! 
Ages, and ages, and succeeding still 
New ages, where this phantom of an hour, 
Which courts, each night, dull slumber, for repaid, 
Shall wake, and wonder, and exult, and praise, 
And fly through infinite, and all unlock ; 
And, (if deserved,) by Heaven's redundant love, 
Made half-adorable itself, adore ; 
And find, in adoration, endless joy ! 
Where thou, not master of a moment here, 
Frail as the flower, and fleeting as the gale, 
IVlayst boast a whole eternity, enrich'd 
With all a kind Omnipotence can pour. 
Bince Adam fell, no mortal, uninspired, 
Has ever yet conceived ; or ever shall. 
How kind is God, how great (if good) is man. 
No man too largely from Heaven's love can hope, 
If, what is hoped, he labors to secure. 

Ills ? — there are none ! All gracious ! none from 
From man full many ! numerous is the race [Thee ; 
Of blackest ills, and those immortal too. 
Begot i)y Madness on fair Liberty ; 
Heaven's daughter, hell debauched ! her hand alone 
Unlocks destruction to the sons of men, 
First barr'd by Thine ; high vvall'd with adamant, 
Guarded with terrors reaching to this world. 
And cover'd with the thunders of Thy law ; 
Whose threats are mercies,whose injunctions,guideS| 
Assisting, not restraining, reason's choice ; 
Whose sanctions, unavoidable results 
From nature's course, indulgently reveal'd j 

^Referring to the First Night. 



THE CONSOLATION, 207 

If* unreveal'd more dangerous, nor less sure. 

Thus, an indulgent lather warns his sons, 

" Do this, fly that " — nor always tells the cause ; 

Pleased to reN'iard, as duty to his will, 

A conduct needful to their own repose. 

Great God of wonders ! (if thy love survey'd, 
Ansht else the name of wonderful retains) 
What rocks are these, on which to build our trust 1 
Thy ways admit no blemish ; none I find ; 
Or this alone — ' that none is to be found." 
Kot one, to soften censure's hardy crime ; 
Kot one, to palliate peevish grief's complaint, 
Who, like a demon, nmrmuring from the dust, 
Dares into judgment call her Judge — St^PRKiME I 
For all I bless thee ; most, for the severe ; 
*Her death — my own at hand — the fiery gulf, 
Tlirit riaming bound of wrath omnipotent I 
It thunders ; but it thunders to preserve ; 
It strengthens what it strikes ; its wholesome dread 
Averts the dreaded pain ; its hideous groans 
Join heaven's sweet hallelujahs to thy praise. 
Great source of good alone ! how kind in all ! 
In vengeance kind ! pain, death, Gehenna, save. 

Thus in thy world material, mighty Mind! 
Not that alone which solaces and shines. 
The rough and gloomy challenges our praise. 
The winter is as needful as the spring ; 
The thunder, as the sun ; a stagnate mass 
Of vapours breeds a pestilential air : 
Nor more propitious the Favonian breeze 
To nature's health, than puritying storms. 
The dread volcano ministers to good : 
Its smother'd flames might undermine the world. 
Loud ^tnas fulminate in love to man ! 
Comets good omens are, when duly scann'd ; 
And, in their use, eclipses learn to shine. 

Man is responsible for ills received ; 
Those we call wretched are a chosen band, 

*LuciA. 



S0» THE COKSOLATlOK. NIGHT IX, 

Compelled to refuge in the right, for peace. 

Amid my list of blessings infinite, 

Stand this the foremost, " that my heart has bled." 

'Tis Heaven's last effort of good will to man : 

When pain can't bless, Heaven quits us in despair. 

Who fails to grieve, when just occasion calls, 

Or grieves too much, deserves not to be bless'd ; 

Inhuman of efleminate his heart: 

Reason absolves the grief, which reason ends. 

May Heaven ne'er trust my friend with happiness, 

Till it has taught him how to bear it well. 

By previous pain ; and made it safe to smile ! 

Such smiles are mine, and such may they remain; 

Nor hazard their extinction, from excess. 

My change of heart a change of style demands ; 

The Consolation cancels the Complaint, 

And makes a convert of my guilty song. 

As when o'erlabor'd, and inclined to breathe, 
A panting traveller, some rising ground. 
Some small ascent, has gain'd, he turns him round 
And measures with his eye, the various vale, 
The fields, woods, meads, and rivers he has pass'd j 
And, satiate of his journey, thinks of home, 
Endear'd by distance, nor affects more toil ; ' 

Thus I, though small indeed is that ascent 
The muse has gain'd, review the paths she trod ; 
Various, extensive, beaten but by few ; 
And, conscious of her prudence in repose, 
Pause ; and with pleasure meditate an end, • 
Though still remote ; so fruitful is my theme. 
Through many a field of moral and divine 
The muse has stray'd ; and much of sorrow seen 
In human ways ; and much of false and vain; 
Which none, who travel this bad road, can miss. 
O'er friends deceased full heartily she wept ; 
Of love divine the wonders she display'd ; 
Proved man immortal ; show'd the source of joy ; 
The grand tribunal raised ; assign'd the bounds 
Of human grief: in few, to close the whole. 
The luoral muse has shadow 'd out a sketch, 



THE CONSOLATION. 209 

Though not in form, nor with a Raphael stroke, 
Of most our weakness needs believe or do, 
In this our land of travel and of hope, 
For jieace on earth, or prospect of the skies. 

What then remains? Much ■ much ! a mighty debt 
To be discharged: These thoughts, O Night! are 
From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs; [thine; 
While others sleep. So Cynthia (poets feign) 
In shadows veil'd, soft sliding from her sphere, 
Her shepherd cheer'd ; of her enamor'd less. 
Than 1 of thee. And art thou still unsung, 
Beneath wViose brow, and by whose aid I sing ? 
Immortal silence I — Where shall 1 begin 1 
Where end 1 or how steal music from the spheres, 
To soothe their goddess 1 

O majestic Night ! 
Nature's great ancestor I Day's elder-born ! 
And fated to survive the transient sun ! 
By mortals, and immortals, seen with awe! 
A starry crown thy raven brow adorns. 
An azure zone, thy waist; clovids, in heaven's loom 
W^rought through varieties of shape and shade. 
In ample folds of drapery divine, 
Thy Flowing mantle form ; and, heaven throughout, 
Voluminously pour thy pompous train ; 
Thy gloomy grandeurs (nature's most august. 
Inspiring aspect I) claim a grateful verse ; 
And. like a sable curtain slarr'd with gold, 
Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene. 

And what, O man ! so worthy to be sung 1 
What more prepares us for the songs of heaven 1 
Creation, of archangels is the theme ! 
What, to be sung so needful ? What so well 
Celestial joys prepares us to sustain 1 
The soul of man, His face designed to see. 
Who gave these wonders to be seen by man, 
Has here a previous scene of objects great, 
On which to dwell ; to stretch to that expanse 
Of thought, to rise to that exalted height 
Of admiration, to contract that awe, 
14 



210 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX 

And give her whole capacities that strength, 
Which best may qualify for final joy. 
The more our spirits are enlarged on earth, 
The deeper draught shall they receive of heaven. 

Heaven's King I whose face unveil'd consummates 
bliss ; 
Redundant bliss ! which fills that mighty void, 
The whole creation leaves in human hearts ! 
Thou, who didst touch the lip of Jksse's son, 
Rapt in sweet contemplation of these fires, 
And set his harp in concert with the spheres ! 
While of thy works material the supreme 
I dare attempt, assist my daring song, 
Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the sun's 
Contracted circle, set my heart at large ; 
Eliminate my spirit, give it range 
Through provinces of thought yet unexplored ; 
Teach me, by this stupendous scaffolding, 
Creation's golden steps, to climb to Thee. 
Teach me with art great nature to control, 
And spread a lustre o'er the shades of night 
Feel I thy kind assent? and shall the sun 
Be seen at midnight, rising in my song 1 

Lorenzo ! come, and warm tliee : thou, whose 
Whose little heart is moor'd within a nook [heart. 
Of this obscure terrestrial, anchor weigh; 
Another ocean calls, a nobler port; 
I am thy pilot, I thy prosperous gale. 
Gainful thy voyage through yon azure main ; 
Main, without tempest, pirate, rock, or shore ; 
And whence thou mayst import eternal wealth; 
And leave to beggar' d minds the pearl and gold. 
Thy travels dost thou boast o'er foreign realms 1 
Thou, stranger to the world I thy tour begin; 
Thy tour through nature's universal orb. 
Nature delineates her whole chart at large, 
On soaring souls that sail along the spheres ; 
And man how purblind, if unknown the whole ! 
Who circles spacious earth, then travels here, 
Shall own he never was from home before ; 



THE CONSOLATION. 211 

Come, my Prometheus,* from thy pointed rock 

Of false ambition if unchain'd, we'll mount; 

We'll innocently steal celestial fire, 

And kindle our devotion at the stars : 

A theft, that shall not chain, but set them free. 

Above our atmosphere's intestine wars. 
Rain's fountain-head, the magazine of hail ; 
Above the northern nest of feather'd snows, 
The brew of thunders, and the flaming forge 
That forms the crooked lightning ; 'bove the caves 
Where infant tempests wait their growing wings, 
And tune their tender voices to that roar. 
Which soon, perhaps, shall shake a guilty world ; 
Above misconstrued omens of the sky, 
Far-travel'd comets' calculated blaze ; 
Elance thy thought, and think of more than man. 
Thy soul, till now, contracted, wither'd, shrunk, 
Blighted by blasts of earth's unwholesome air. 
Will blossom here ; spread all her faculties 
To these bright ardours ; every power unfold, 
And rise into sublimities of thought. 
Stars teach, as well as shine. At nature's birth. 
Thus their commission ran, " Be kind to man." 
Where art thou, poor benighted traveller 1 
The stars will light thee ; though the moon shall fail. 
Where art thou, more benighted I more astray ! 
In ways immortal 1 the stars call thee back ; 
And, if obey'd their counsel, set thee right. 

This prospect vast what is it? weigh'd aright, 
'Tis nature's system of divinity. 
And every student of the night inspires. 
'Tis elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand : 
Scripture authentic ! uncorrupt by man. 
Lorenzo ! with my radius (the rich gift 
Of thought nocturnal !) I'll point out to thee 
Its various lessons ; some that may surprise 
An un-adept in mysteries of Night ; 
Little, perhaps, expected in her school, 

*Night the Eighth. 



212 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX 

Nor thought to grow on planet or on star. 
Bulls, lions, scorpions, monsters, here we feign; 
Ourselves more monstrous, not to see what here 
Exists indeed ; a lecture to mankind. 

What read we here 1 the existence of a God 1 
Yes ; and of other beings, man above ! 
Natives of ether ! sons of higher climes ! 
And, what may move Lorenzo's wonder more, 
Eternity is written in the skies. 
And whose eternity 1 Lorenzo, thine; 
Mankind's eternity. Nor faith alone ; 
Virtue grows here : here springs the sov'reign cure 
Of almost every vice ; but chiefly thine : 
Wrath, pride, ambition, and impure desire. 

Lorenzo : thou canst wake at midnight too, 
Though not on morals bent : ambition, pleasure ! 
Those tyrants I for thee so lately fought,* 
Afford their hanass'd slaves but slender rest. 
Thou, to whom midnight is immoral noon, 
And the sun's noontide blaze, prime dawn of day; 
Not by thy climate, but capricious crime, 
Commencing one of our Antipodes ! 
In thy nocturnal rove, one moment halt, 
'Twixt stMge and stage of riot and cabal ; 
And lift thine eye (if bold an eye to lift. 
If bold to meet the face of injured Heaven) 
To yonder stars : for other ends they shine, 
Than to light travellers from shame to shame, 
And, thus, be made accomplices in guilt. 

Why from yon arch, that infinite of space, 
With infinite of lucid orbs replete. 
Which set the living firmament on fire, 
At the first glance, in such an overwhelm 
Of wonderful on man's astonished sight. 
Rushes Omnipotence 1 to curb our pride ; 
Our reason rouse, and lead it to that Power, 
Whose love lets down these silver chains of light, 
To draw up man's ambition to Himself, 

*Night the Eighth. 



THE CONSOLATION. 213 

And bind our chaste affection to his throne. 
Thus the three virtue^, least alive on earth, [plause. 
And welcomed on heaven's coast with most ap- 
An humble, pure, and heavenly minded heart, 
Are here inspired. And canst thou gaze too longl 

Nor stands thy wrath deprived of its reproof, 
Or unupbraided by this radiant choir. 
The planets of each system represent 
Kind neighbors ; mutual amity prevails ; 
Sweet interchange of rays, received, retnrn'd ; 
Enlightening, and enlighten'd! AH, at once, 
Attracting, and attracted ! Patriot-like, 
None sins against the welfare of the whole; 
But their reciprocal, unselfish aid 
Affords an emblem of millennial love. 
Nothing in nature, much less conscious being, 
Was e'er created solely for itself: 
Thus man his sov'reign duty learns in this 
Material picture of benevolence. 

And know, of all our supercilious race, 
Thou most inflammable ! thou wasp of men ! 
Man's angry heart, inspected, w'ould be found 
As rightly set, as are the starry spheres ; 
'Tis nature's structure, broke by stubborn will. 
Breeds all that uncelestial discord there. 
Wilt thou not feel the bias nature gave ? 
Canst thou descend from converse with the skies. 
And seize thy brother's throat ? for what 1 a clod 1 
An inch of earth 1 the planets cry, " forbear ; " 
They chase our double darkness, nature's gloom ; 
And (kinder still !) our intellectual night. 

And see. Day's amiable sister sends 
Her invitation in the softest rays 
Of mitigated lustre ; courts thy sight, 
Which suffers from her tyrant-brother's blaze. 
Night grants thee the full freedom of the skies, 
Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye ; 
With gain and joy she bribes thee to be wise. 
Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe 
Which gives those venerable scenes full weight, 



214 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

And deep reception in th' intender'd heart: 

While light peeps through the darkness, like a spy; 

And darkness shows its grandeur by the light. 

Nor is the profit greater than the joy, 

If human hearts at glorious objects glow, 

And admiration can inspire delight. 

What speak I more than I, this moment, feel 1 
With pleasing stupor first the soul is struck : 
(Stupor ordain'd to make her truly wise !) 
Then into transport starting from her trance, 
With love and admiration how she glows ! 
This gorgeous apparatus ! this display ! 
This ostentation of creative power ! 
This theatre ! what eye can take it in 1 
By what divine enchantment was it raised, 
For minds of the first magnitude to launch 
In endless speculation, and adore 1 
One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine ; 
And light us deep into the Deity : 
How boundless in magnificence and might I 
Oh, what a confluence of ethereal fires. 
From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of heaven, 
Streams to a point, and centres in my sight ! 
Nor tarries there ; I feel it at my heart. 
My heart, at once, it humbles and exalts : 
Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. 
Who sees it unexalted 1 or unawed 1 
Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen 7 
Material offspring of Omnipotence ! 
Inanimate, all animating birth ! 
Work worthy Him who made it ! worthy praise ! 
All praise ! praise more than human ! nor denied 
Thy praise divine ! but though man, drown'd in sleep, 
Withholds his homage, not alone I wake : 
Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing unheard 
By mortal ear. the glorious Architect, 
In this his universal temple, hung 
With lustres, with innumerable lights, 
That shed religion on the soul , at once. 
The temple, and the preacher ! Oh how loud 



THE CONSOLATION. 215 

It calls devotion ! genuine grrowth of night ! 

Devotion ! daughter of a-;tronomy ! 
An undevoul astronomer is mad. 
True ; all things «peak a God : but in the small, 
Men trace out Him : in great, He seizes man ; 
Siezes, and elevates, and \vrap«, and fills 
With new enquiries, 'mid associates new. 
Tell me, ye sIhts ! ye planets ! tell me, all 
Ye starr'd, and planeted inhabitants ! what is it 1 
What are these sons of wonder 1 say, proud arch, 
(Within whose azure palaces they dwell,) 
Built with divine ambition ! in disdain 
Of limit built ! built in the taste of heaven ! 
Vast concave ! ample dome ! wast thou design'd 
A meet apartment for the Deity 1 
Not so ; that thought alone thy state impairs, 
Thy lofty sinks, and shallows thy profound, 
And straitens thy ditfusive ; dwarfs the whole. 
And makes a universe an orrery. 

But when I drop mine eye, and look on man. 
Thy right regain'd. thy grande>ir is restored, 
O nature 1 wide flies off th' expanding round, 
As when whole mognzines at once are fired, 
The smitten air is hollow'd by the blow : 
The vast displosion dissipates the clouds ; 
Shock'd ether's billows dash the distant skies ; 
Thus (but far more) th' expanding round flies off, 
And leaves a mighty void, a spacious womb, 
Might teem with new creation : reinflamed 
Thy luminaries triumph, and assume 
Divinity themselves. Nor was it strange, 
Matter high-wrought to such surprising pomp. 
Such godlike glory, stole the style of gods 
From ages dark, obtuse, and steep'd in sense ; 
For sure, to sense, they truly are divine, 
And half absolved idolatry from guilt ; 
Nay, turn'd it into virtue. Such it was 
In those, who put forth all they had of man 
Unlost, to lift their thought, nor mounted higher; 
But, weak of wing, on planets perch'd ; and thought 



216 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. s 

What was their highest must be their adored. ' 

But they how weak, who could no higher mount! 
And are there then, Lorenzo, those to whom 
Unseen and unexistent are the same 1 
And if incomprehensible is join'd, 
Who dare pronounce it madness to believe 1 
Why has the mighty Builder thrown aside 
All measure in his work ; stretch'd out his line 
So far, and spread amazement o'er the whole 1 
Then, (as he took delight in wide extremes,) 
Deep in the bosom of his universe, 
Dropp'd down that reasoning mite, that insect, man. 

To crawl, and gaze, and wonder at the scene "? ■ 

That man might ne'er presume to plead amazement 

For disbelief of wonders in Himself. 

Shall God be less miraculous than what 

His hand has form'd "? Shall mysteries descend 

From unmysterious 1 things more elevate 

Be more familiar? uncreated lie 

More obvious than created, to the grasp 

Of human thought 7 the more of wonderful 

Is heard in Him, the more we should assent. 

Could we conceive him, God he could not be ; 

Or he not God, or we could not be men. 

A God alone can comprehend a God : 

Man's distance how immense ! On such a theme 

Know this, Lorenzo ! (seem it ne'er so strange) 

Nothing can satisfy but what confounds ; 

Nothing but what astonishes is true. 

The scene thou seest attests the truth I sing; 

And every star sheds light upon thy creed. 

These stars, this furniture, this cost of heaven, 

If but reported, thou had> t ne'er believed ; 

But thine eye tells thee the romance is true. 

The grand of nature is th' Almighty's oath, 

In reason's court, to silence unbelief. 

How my mind, opening at this scene, imbibes 
The moral emanations of the skies ; 
While nought, perhaps, Lorenzo less admires ! 
Has the Great Sov'reign sent ten thousand worlds i 



THE CONSOLATION. 217 

To tell us, he resides above them all, 

In glory's unapproachable recess 1 

And dare earth's bold inhabitants deny 

The sumptuous, the magnific embassy 

A moment's audience? Turn we, nor will hear 

From whom they come, or what they would impart 

For man's emolument ; sole cause that stoops 

Their grandeur to man's eye 1 Lorenzo ! rouse ; 

Let thought, awaken'd, take the lightning's wing, 

And glance from east to west, from pole to pole. 

Who sees, but is confounded or convinced 1 

Renounces reason, or a God adores 1 

Mankind was sent into the world to see : 

Sight gives the science needful to their peace ; 

That obvious science asks small learning's aid. 

Wouldst thou on metaphysic pinions soar 1 

Or wound thy patience amid logic thorns 1 

Or travel history's enormous round ? 

Nature no such hard task enjoins : she gave 

A make to man directive of his thought ; 

A make set upright ; pointing to the stars, 

As w^ho should say, " Read thy chief lesson there." 

Too late to read this manuscript of heaven. 

When, like a parchment scroll shrunk up by flames, 

It folds Lorenzo's lesson from his sight. 

Lesson how various ! Nor the God alone ; 
I see his ministers ; I see, diffused 
In radiant orders, essences sublime, 
Of various offices, of various plume, 
In heavenly liveries, distinctly clad. 
Azure, green, purple, pearl, or downy gold. 
Or all commix'd ; they stand, with wings outspread, 
Listening to catch the Master's least command, 
And fly through nature, ere the moment ends ; 
Numbers innumerable ! Well conceived 
By Pagan and by Christian ! o'er each sphere 
Presides an angel, to direct its course. 
And feed or fan its flames ; or to discharge 
Other high trusts unknown. For who can see 
Such pomp of matter, and imagine mind, 



218 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

For which alone inanimate was made, 
More sparingly dispensed ! that nobler son, 
Far liker the great Sire ! 'Tis thus the skies 
Inform us of superiors numberless, 
As much, in excellence, above mankind, 
As above earth, in magnitude, the spheres. 
These as a cloud of witnesses hang o'er us ; 
In a throng'd theatre are all our deeds : 
Perhaps a thousand demigods descend 
On every beam we see, to walk with men. 
Awful reflection ! strong restraint from ill ! 
Yet here our virtue finds still stronger aid 
From these ethereal glories sense surveys. 
Something like magic strikes from this blue vault, 
With just attention is it view'd 1 We feel 
A sudden succor, uniniplored, unthought ; 
Nature herself does half the work of man. 
Seas, rivers, mountains, forests, deserts, rocks, 
The promontory's height, the depth profound 
Of subterranean, excavated grots, 
Black-brow'd, and vaulted high, and yawning wide 
From nature's structure or the scoop of time; 
If ample of dimension, vast of size. 
E'en these an aggrandizing impulse give ; 
Of solemn thought enthusiastic heights 
E'en these infuse. But what of vast in these 1 
Nothing; or we mustown the skies forgot. 
Much less in art. Vain Art ! thou pigmy power ! 
How dost thou swell and strut with human pride, 
To show thy littleness ! What childish toys 
Thy watery cokunns squirted to the clouds ! 
Thy bason'd rivers, and imprison 'd seas I 
Thy mountains moulded into forms of men ! 
Thy hundred-gated capitals ! or those 
Where three days' travel left us much to ride ; 
Gazing on miracles by mortals wrought, 
Arches triumphal, theatres immense. 
Or nodding gardens pendent in mid air ! 
Or temples proud to meet their gods half way : 
Yet these aflect us in no common kind. 



219 

Wliat then the force of such superior scenes 1 

Enter a temple, it will strike an awe : 

What awe from this the Deity has built ! 

A good man seen, though silent, counsel gives ; 

The touch'd spectator wishes to be wise : 

In a bright mirror his own hands have made, 

Here we see something like the face of God. 

Seems it not then enough to say, Lorenzo, 

To man abandon'd, " Hast thou seen the skies 1 " 

And yet, so thwarted n'ature's kind design 
By daring man, he makes lier sacred awe 
(That guard from ill) his shelter, his temptation 
To more than common guilt, and quite inverts 
Celestial art's intent. The trembling stars 
See crimes gigantic, stalking through the gloom 
With front erect, that hide their head by day, 
And making night still darker by their deeds. 
Slumb'ring in covert, till the shades descend. 
Rapine, and murder, link'd, now prowl for prey. 
The miser earths his treasure : and the thief. 
Watching the mole, half beggars him ere morn. 
Now plots and foul conspiracies awake ; 
And, muffling up their horrors froni the moon, 
Havoc and devastation they prepare. 
And kingdoms tott'ring in the held of blood. 
Now sons of riot in mid-revel rage. 
What shall I do ? suppress it, or proclaim ? 
Why sleeps the thunder 7 Now, Lorenzo ! now, 
His best friend's couch the rank adulterer 
Ascends secure ; and laughs at gods and men. 
Preposterous madmen, void of fear or shame, 
Lay their crimes bare to those chaste eyes of heaven ; 
Yet shrink and shudder at a mortal's sight. 
Were moon and stars for villains only made ; 
To guide, yet screen them, with tenebrious light 1 
No ; they were made to fashion the sublime 
Of human hearts, and wiser make the wise. 

Those ends were answer'd once ; when mortals 
Of stronger wing, of aquiline ascent, [lived 

In theory sublime. Oh, how unlike 



220 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

The'se vermin of the nisht, thi^ moment «nnjr, 

Who cnwl on e^irth, and on her venom feed ! 

Those ancient saire*!, human stnr^ I They met 

Their brothers of the skies, at midnijrht hour ; 

Their ronnsel ask'd ; and, what they ask'd obey'd. 

The Stnfiyrite, and Plato, he who drank 

The poisnn'd howl, and he of Tuscnhim, 

With him of Cordiiba, Cimmortal names !) 

In these unbounded and Elvsian walks, 

An area fit for cod=! and irodlike men. 

They took their niffhtly rounds, thron^rh radiant paths 

By seraphs trod: instriicted, chiefly, thus, 

To tread in their bright footsteps here below ; 

To walk in worth still brighter than the skies. 

There they contracted their contempt of earth; 

Of hopes eternal kindled there the fire ; 

There, as in near approach, they jrlow'd, and grew 

(Great visitants !) more intimate with God, 

More worth to men, more ioyons to themselves. 

Throuffh various virtues, they, with ardour, ran 

The zodiac of their learn'd, illustrious lives. 

In Christian hearts. Oh for a Pagan zeal ! 
A needful, btit opprobious prayer ! As much 
Our ardour less as greater is our light. 
How monstrous this in morals ! Scarce more strange 
Would this phenomenon in nature strike, 
A sun that froze us ; or a star that wahn'd. 

What taught these heroes of the moral world ? 
To the-ie thou givest thy praise, give credit too. 
These doctors ne'er were pension'd to deceive thee ; 
And Pagan tutors are thy taste — They taught 
That narrow views betray to misery : 
That wise it is to comprehend the whole : 
That virtue rose from nature : ponder'd well 
The single base of virtue built to heaven: 
That God and nature our attention claim : 
That nature is the glass reflecting God, 
As, by the sea, reflected, is the sun, 
Too glorious to be gazed on in his sphere : 
That mind immortal loves immortal aims : 



THE CONSOLATION. 221 

That honiuile>s mind affects a boundless space : 
That vast surveys and tlte siil»liine of thhigs, 
The soul assimilate, and make her preat : 
That therefore heaven her glories, as a fund 
Of inspiration, thus spreads out to man. 
Such are their doctrines ; such the night inspired. 

And what more true ? what truth of greater weighf? 
The soul of man was made to walk the skies ; 
Delightful outlet of her prison here ! 
There, disencuniber'd from her chains, the ties 
Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; 
There freely can respire, dilate, extend. 
In full proportion let loose all her powers ; 
And, undeluded, grasp at something great. 
Nor, as a stranger, does she wander there ; 
But, wonderful herself, through wonders strays; 
Contemplating their grandeur, finds her own ; 
Dives deep in their economy divine, 
Sits high in judgnient on their various laws, 
And, like a master, judges not amiss. 
Hence, greatly pleased and justly proud, the soul 
Grows conscious of her birth celestial ; breathes 
Wore life, nmre vigour in her native air, 
And feels herself at home among the stars ; 
And, feeling, emulates her country's praise. 

What call we then the firmanent, Lorenzo ? — 
As earth the body, since the skies sustain 
The soul with food, that gives immortal life, 
Call it. The noble pasture of the mind, 
Which there expatiates, strengthens, and exults, 
And riots through the luxuries of thought. 
Call it. The garden of the Deity, 
Blossom'd with stars, redundant in the growth 
Of fruit ambrosial : moral fruit to man. 
Call it. The breastplate of the true High-priest, 
Ardent with gems or.icular, that give. 
In points of highest moment, right response; 
And ill neglected, if we prize our peace. 

Thus have we found a true astrology ; 
Thus have we found a new and noble sense, 



222 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX 

In which alone stars govern human fates. 
Oh that the stars (as some have Ceign'd; let fall 
Bloodshed and havoc on embattled realms 
And rescued monarchs from so hlack a guilt ! 
Bourbon I this wish how generous in a foe ! 
Wouldst thou be great, wouldst thou become a god, 
And stick thy deathless name among the stars, 
For mighty conquests on a needle's point? 
Instead of forging chains for foreigners, 
Bastile thy tutor. Grandeur all thy aim 1 
As yet thou know'st not what it is : how great, 
flow glorious, then appears the mind of man. 
When in it all the stars and planets roll ! 
And what it seems, it is : great objects make 
Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge ; 
Those still more godlike, as these more divine. 

And more divine than these thou canst not see. 
Dazzled, o'erpower'd, with the delicious draught 
Of miscellaneous splendors, how I reel 
From thought to thought, inebriate, without end I 
An Eden this ! a Paradise unlost! 
I meet the Deity in every view, 
And tremble at my nakedness before him ! 
Oh that I could but reach the tree of life ! 
For here it grows, unguarded from our taste ; 
No flaming sword denies our entrance here : 
Would man but gather, he might live for ever. 

■ Lorenzo, much of moral hast thou seen. 
Of curious arts art tliou more fond 1 Then mark 
The mathematic glories of the skies. 
In number, weiglit, and measure, all ordain'd. 
Lorenzo's boasted builders, chance, and fate. 
Are left to finish his aerial towers : 
Wisdom and choice, their well known characters 
Here deep impress ; and claim it for their own. 
Though splendid all, no splendour void of use : 
Use rivals beauty ; art contends with power; 
No wanton waste amid effuse expanse ; 
The great Economist adjusting all 
To prudent pomp, magnificently wise. 



THE CONSOLATION. 223 

How ricli the juospect ! and for ever new I 
And newest to the man that views it most ; 
For newer still in infinite succeeds. 
Then, these aerial racers, Uh, how swift! 
How the shaft loiters from tlie strongest string! 
Spirit alone can distance the c;ireer. 
Orb above orb ascending witlioiit end ! 
Circle in circle, without end, enclosed I 
Wheel within wheel : E/.ekiel, like to thine I 
Like thine it seems a vision or a dream ; 
Though seen, we lajmr to believe it true I 
What involution ! what extent! what swarms 
Of worlds that hiugh at earth I immensely great 
Immensely distant from each other's spheres ! 
What then the wondrous space through which they 
At once it quite ingulfs all human thought ; [roll 1 
'Tis comprehension's absolute defeat. 

Nor think thou seest a wild disorder here ; 
Through this illustrious chaos to the signt 
Arrangement neat and chastest order reign. 
The path prescribed inviolably kept, 
Upbraiils the lawless sallies of mankhid. 
Worlds, ever thwarting, never interfere. 
What knots are tied I how soon are they dissolved 
And set the seeming married planets free ! 
They rove for ever, without error rove ; 
Confusion unconfused ! nor less admire 
This tunuilt untumultuous ; all on wing! 
In motion, all ! yet what profound repose ! 
What fervid action, yet no noise I as awed 
To silence, by the presence of their Lord ; 
Or hush'd by His command, in love to man. 
And bid let fall soft beams on human rest, 
Restless themselves. On yon cerulean plain, 
In exultation to their God, and thine, 
They dance, they sing eternal jubilee, 
Eternal celebration of His praise. 
But, since their song arrives not at our ear, 
Their dance perplex'd exhibits to the sight 
Fair hierogliphic of his peerless power. 
Mark how the labyrinthian turns they take, 



.a34 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

The circles intricate, and mvstic m^ze. 
Weave the ftrand cipher of Omnipotence ; 
To gorts, how ere at I how lejrihle to man ! 

Leaves so much wonder trreater wonder still 1 
Where are the pillars that support the skies 1 
What more than Atlantean shoulder props 
Th' incumhetit load 1 Whatnngic, what strange art, 
In fluid air these ponderous orlis sustains 7 
Who would not think them huns in srolden chains ? 
And so they are ; in the hieh will of Heaven, 
Which fixes all ; makes adamant of air. 
Or air of adamant : makes all of nought, 
Or nought of all : if such the dread decree. 

Imagine from their deep foundations torn 
The most gigantic sons of earth, the hroad 
And tow'ring Alps, all toss'd into the sea; 
And, light as down, or volatile as air, 
Their bulks enormous, dancing on the waves, 
In time and measure exquisite ; while all 
The winds, in emulation of the spheres, 
Tune their sonorous instruments aloft, 
The concert swell, and animate the hall ; 
Would this appear amazing? What, then, worlds, 
In a far thinner element su'stain'd. 
And acting the same part, with greater skill, 
More rapid movement, and for noblest ends 1 

More obvious ends to pass, — are not these stars 
The seats majestic, proud imperial thrones. 
On which angelic delegates of heaven 
At certain periods, as the Sovereirn nods, 
Discharge high trusts of vengeance or of love ; 
To clothe, in outward grandeur, grand design, 
And acts most solemn still more solemnize 7 

Ye citizens of air! what ardent thanks, 
What full effusion of the grateful heart. 
Is due from man, indulged in such a sight! 
A sight so noble ! and a sight so kind ! 
It drops new truths at every new survey ! 
Feels not Lorenzo something stir within, 
That sweeps away all period 1 As these spheres 



THE CONSOLATION. 25» 

Measure duration, they no less Inspire 

The nrodlike hope of ages without end. 

The boundless space, through which the«e rovers take 

Their restless roam, suggests the sister thought 

Of boundless time. Tlius, by kind nature's skill 

To man unlabor'd, that important guest, 

Eternity, finds entrance at the sight ; 

And an eternity, for man ordain'd, 

Or these his destined midnight counsellors, 

The stars had never whisper'd it to man. 

Nature informs, but ne'er insults her sons. 

Could she then kindle the most ardent wish 

To disappoint it 1 — That is blasphemy. 

Thus, of thy creed a second article. 

Momentous as th' existence of a God, 

Is found (as I conceive) where rarely sought; 

And thou mayst re;td thy soul innnortal here. 

Here, then,'LoiiKN/.o.'iin these iilories dwell; 
N(»r want llie uill. illmninaled roof. 
That calls the wretched g ly to dark delights. 
Assemlilies ! this is one divinely briu'ht ; 
Here, unendangtir'd in health, wealth, or fame. 
Range through the fairest, and the Sultan scorn. 
He, wise as tiiou, no crescent holds so fair, 
As ihat which on his turban awes a world ; 
And thinks the moon is pnnid to copy him. 
Look on her, and gain more than worlds can give, 
A mind superior to the charujs of power. 
Thou nuiffled in delusions of this life ! 
Can yonder moon turn ocean in his bed. 
From side to side, in constant ebb and flow, 
And purify from stench his watery realms ? 
And fails her moral influence 1 wants she power 
To turn Lorenzo's stubborn tide of thought 
From stagnating on earth's infected shore, 
And purge from nuisance his corrupted heart 1 
Fails her attraction when it draws to heaven 1 
Nay, and to what thou valuest more, earth's joy? 
Minds elevate, and panting for unseen, 
And defecate from sense, alone obtain, 
15 



^226 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

Full relish of existence undeflower'd, 
The life of life, the zest of worldly bliss. 
All else on earth amounts — to what 1 To this : 
" Bad to be suffer'd : blessings to be left : " 
Earth's richest inventory boasts no more. 

Of higher scenes be then the call obey'd. 
'Oh, let me gaze I — Of gizing there's no end. 
Oh, let me thinli ! Thought too is wilder'd here ; 
In midway flight imagination tires ; 
Yet soon reprunes her wing to soar anew, 
Her point unable to forbear or gain ; 
So great the pleasure ! so profound the plan! 
A banquet this where men and angels meet, 
Eat the same manna, mingle earth and heaven. 
How distant some of these nocturnal suns ! 
So distant (says the sage,) 'twere not absurd 
To doubt, if beams, set out at nature's birth, 
Are yet arrived at this so foreign world ; 
Though nothing half so rapid as their flight; 
An eye of awe and wonder let me roll, 
And roll for ever : who can satiate sight 
In such a scene "? in such an ocean wide 
Of deep astonishment 1 where depth, height, breadth 
Are lost in their extremes ; and where, to count 
The thick-sown glories in this field of fire. 
Perhaps a seraph's conijiutation fails. 
Now go, ambition ! boast thy boundless might 
In conquest, o'er the tenth part of a grain. 

And yet Lorenzo calls for miracles. 
To give his tottering faith a solid base. 
Why call for less than is already thine 1 
Thou art no novice in theology ; 
What is a miracle ?— 'Tis a reproach, 
'Tis an implicit satire on mankind ; 
And while it satisfies, it censures too. 
To common sense great nature's course proclaims 
A Deity : when mankind falls asleep, 
A miracle is sent, as an alarm ; 
To wake the world, and prove Him o'er again, 
By recent argument, but not more strong. 



•THE CONSOLATiOJf. 227 

Say, which imports more plentitude of power. 

Or nature's laws to fix or to repeal ? 

To make a sun, or stop his mid career 1 

To countermand his orders, or send back 

The flaming courier to the frighted east, 

Warm'd and astonish'd at his evening ray "? 

Or bid the moon, as with her journey tired, 

On Ajalon's soft flowery vale repose 1 

Great things are these ; still greater, to create. 

From Adam's bower look down through the whole 

Of miracles ; resistless is their power 1 [traia 

They do not, cannot more amaze the mind 

Than this, call'd unmiraculous survey, 

If duly weigh'd, if rationally seen, 

If seen with human eyes. The brute, indeed, 

Sees nonglit but spangles here : the fool, no more. 

Sayst thou, " The course of nature governs all 1 '* 

The course of nature is the art of Got). 

The miracles thou call'st for this attest ; 

For say, could nature nature's course control 1 

But, miracles apart, \\ ho sees him not. 
Nature's controller, author, guide, and end ? 
Who turns his eye on nature's midnight face. 
But must inquire — " What hand behind the scene, 
What arm almighty put these wheeling globes 
In motion, and wound up the vast machine ? 
Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs 7 
Who boul'd them flaming through the dark profound, 
Numerous as glittering gems of morning dew. 
Or spagvs from populous cities in a blaze, 
And set the bosom of old night on fire 7 
Peopled her desert, and made horror smile ; " 
Or, if the military style delights thee [manj) 

(For stars have fought their battles, leagued with 
"Who marshals this bright host? enrolls their 

names 7 
Appoints ther posts, their marches, and returns, 
Punctual at stated periods 7 who disbands 
These veteran troops, their final duty done. 
If e'er disbanded 7 "—He whose potent word, 



•|!38 THE CONSOLATION. KIOHT IX. 

Like the loud trumpet, levied first their powers 
In night's inglorious empire, where they slept 
In beds of darkness ; arm'd them with fierce flames, 
Arranged, and disciplined, and clothed in gold ; 
And call'd them out of chaos to the field, 
Where now they war with vice and unbelief. 
Oh, let us join this army ! Joinine; these 
Will give us hearts intrepid at that hour 
When brighter flames shall cut a darker night ! 
When these strong demonstrations of a God 
Shall hide their heads, or tumble from their spheres, 
And one eternal curtain cover all ! 

Struck at that thought, as new awaked, I lift 
A more enlighten'd eye, and read the stars. 
To man stillniore propitious ; and their aid 
(Though guiltless of idolatry) implore. 
Nor longer rob them of their noblest name. 
O ye dividers of my time ! ye bright 
Accountants of my days, and months and years, 
In your fair calendar distinctly mark'd ! 
Since that authentic, radiant register, 
Though man inspects it not, stands good against him ; 
Since you, and years roll on, though man stands still J 
Teach me my days to number,' and apply 
My trembling heart to wisdom ; now beyond 
All shadow of excuse for fooling on. 
Age smooths our path to prudence ; sweeps aside 
The snares keen appetite, and passion, ''spread 
To catch stray souls : and woe to that gray head 
Whose folly would undo what age has done ! 
Aid then, aid, all ye stars !— Much rather, THhou, 
Great Artist ! Thou, whose finger set aright 
This exquisite machine, with all its wheels, 
Though intervolved, exact, and pointing out 
Life's rapid and irrevocable flight, 
With such an index fair as none can miss 
Who lifts an eye, dread Deity ! to read 
The tacit doctrine of thy works ; to see 
Things as they are, unalter'd, through the glass 
Of worldly wishes. Time, Eternity ! 



THE CONSOLATION. VZif 

CT'is these mismeasured ruin all mankind.) 
Set them before me ; let me lay them both 
In equal scale, and learn their various weight. 
Let time appear a moment, as it is ; 
And let eternity's full orb, at once, 
Turn on my soul, and strike it into heaven. 
When shall I see far more than charms me now 1 
Gaze on creation's model in Thy breast 
Unveil'd, nor wonder at the transcript more 1 
When this vile, foreign dust, which smothers all 
That travels earth's deep vale, shall I shake off 1 
When shall my soul her incarnation quit, 
And, re-adopted to thy blest embrace, 
Obtain her apotheosis in Thee ? 

Dost think, Lorenzo, this is wandering wide? 
No, 'tis directly striking at the mark : 
To wake thy dead dovotion was my point ;* 
And how I bless night's consecrating shades, 
Which to a temple turn a universe ; 
Fill us with great ideas full of heaven. 
And antidote the pestilential earth ! 
In every storm that either frowns or falls, 
What an asylum has the soul in prayer ! 
And what a' fane is this, in which to pray ! 
And what a God must dwell in such a fane ! 
Oh what a genius must inform the skies ! 
And is Lorenzo's salamander heart 
Cold, and untoiich'd, amid these sacred fires 1 
O ye nocturnal sparks ! ye glowing embers, [more, 
On heaven's broad hearth ! who burn, or burn no 
Who blaze, or die, as great Jehovah's breath 
Or blows you or forbears ; assist my song ; 
Pour your whole influence ; exorcise his heart. 
So long possess'd ; and bring him back to man. 

And is Lorenzo a demurrer still ? 
Pride in thy parts provokes thee to contest 
Truths which, contested, put thy parts to shame. 
Nor shame they more Lorenzo's head than heart : 

♦ Page 212. 



230 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

A faithless heart, how despicably small ! 

Too strait aught great or generous to receive ! 

Fill'd with an atom ! fiil'd and foul'd with self! 

And self mistalcen ; self, that lasts an hour ! 

Instincts and passions, of the nobler kind, 

Lie suffocated there ; or they alone. 

Reason apart, would wake high hope ; and open, 

To ravish'd thought, that intellectual sphere, 

Where order, wisdom goodness, providence, 

Their endless miracles of love display. 

And promise all the truly great desire. 

The mind that would be happy must be great; 

Great in its wishes ; great in its surveys. 

Extended views a narrow mind extend ; 

Push out its corrugate, expansive make, 

Which, ere long, more than planets shall embrace. 

A man of compass makes a man of worth ; 

Divine contemplate, and become divine. 

As man was made for glory and for bliss, 
AH littleness is an approach to woe : 
Open thy bosom, set thy wishes wide. 
And let in manhood ; let in happiness ; 
Admit the boundless theatre of thought 
from nothing up to God ; which makes a man. 
Take God from nature, nothing great is left ; 
Man's mind is in a pit, and nothing sees : 
Man's heart is in a jakes, and loves the mire. 
Emerge from thy profound : erect thine eye ; 
See thy distress ! How close art tliou besieged! 
Besieged by nature, the proud sceptic's foe ! 
Enclosed by these innumerable worlds, 
Sparkling conviction on the darkest mind, 
As in a golden net of Providence, 
How art thou caught, sure captive of* belief ! 
From this thy bless'd captivity, what art, 
What blasphemy to reason, sets thee free ! 
This scene is Heaven's indulgent violence. 
Canst thou bear up against this tide of glory ? 
What is earth, bosom'd in these ambient orbs, 
But faith in God, imposed and press'd on man 1 



THE CONSOLATIOX. 231 

Dar'st thou still litigate thy desperate cause, 
Spite it thee numerous, awful witnesses, 
And doubt the deposition of the skies t 
Oh how laborious is thy way to ruin ! 

Laborious! 'tis impracticable quite: 
To sink beyond a doubt, in this debate, 
With all his weight of wisdom and of will. 
And crime flajritious, I defy a fool. 
Some wish they did ; but lio man disbelieves. 
Cod is a spirit; spirit cannot strike 
These gross material organs : God by man 
As much is seen as man a God can see. 
In the.>e astonishing exploits of power, 
What order, beauty, motion, distance, size ! 
Concertion of design, how exquisite I 
How complicate in their divine police ! 
Apt means I great ends ! consent to general good". 
Each attribute of the^e material gods. 
So lor.g (and that with specious pleas) adored, 
A separate conquest gains o'er rebel thought; 
And leads in triumph the whole mind of man., 

Lorenzo, tliis may seem harangue to thee ; 
Such all is apt to seem, that thwarts our will. 
And dost thou then denuind a simple proof 
Of tjiis great masier-mora! of the skies, 
Un>kiird or disinclined to read it there 1 
Since 'tis the basis, and all drops without it, 
Take it, in one compact, unbroken chain. 
Such proof insists on an attentive ear ; 
'Twill not make one amid a mob of thoughts, 
And, for thy notice, struggle with the world. 
Retire;— the world shut out ;— thy thoughts call 
Imagination's airy wing repress ; — [home ; — 

Lock up thy senses ; — let no passion stir ; — 
Wake all to reason ; — let her reign alone ; — 
Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth 
Of nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire. 
As I have done ; and shall inquire no more. 
In nature's channel, thus the qwest'ons run : — 

" >Vhal am i ? and from whence "? — I nothing know, 



232 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

But that I am ; and, since I am, conclude 

Something eternal ; had there e'er been nought, 

Nought still had been : eternal there must be. — 

But what eternal 1 — why not human race 1 

And Adam's ancestors without an end? — 

That's hard to be conceived ; since every link 

Of that long-chain'd succession is so frail : 

Can every part depend, and not the whole ? 

Yet grant it true ; new difficulties rise ; 

I'm still quite out at sea ; nor see the shore. 

Whence earth, and these bright orbs ? — eternal too 1 

Grant matter was eternal ; still these orbs 

Would want some other father ; — much design 

Is seen in all their motions, all their makes : 

Design implies intelligence and art : 

That can't be from themselves— or man ; that art 

Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow 1 

And nothing greater, yet allow'd, than man. — 

Who motion, foreign to the smallest grain. 

Shot through vast masses of enormous weight ? 

Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume 

Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? 

Has matter innate motion ? Then each atom, 

Asserting its indisputable right 

To dance, would form a imiverse of dust. 

Has matter none ? Then whence these glorious forms 

And boundless flights, from shapeless, and reposed 1 

Has matter more than motion ? Has it thought, 

Judgment, and genius ? Is it deeply learn'd 

In mathematics ? has it framed such laws, 

Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortall — 

If so, how each sage atom laughs at me, 

Who think a clod inferior to a man ! 

If art to form, and counsel to conduct, 

And that with greater far than human skill. 

Resides not in each block ; — a Godhead reigns. — 

Grant, then, invisible, eternal Mind ; 

That granted, all is solved. But, granting that, 

Draw I not o'er n)e a still darker cloud ? 

Grant I not that which I can ne'er conceive 1 



THE CONSOLATION. 283 

A being without origin or end ! — 

Hail, human liberty ! There is no God — 

Yet why 1 On either scheme that knot subsists ; 

Subsist it must, in God, or human race ; 

If in the last, how many knots beside, 

Indissoluble all ? — Why choose it there. 

Where, chosen, still subsist ten thousand more ? 

Reject it, where, that chosen, all the rest 

Dispersed, leave reason's whole horizon clear 1 

This is not reason's dictate : reason says, 

Close with the side where one grain turns the scale. 

What vast preponderance is here ! Can reason 

With louder voice exclaim — Believe a God 1 

And reason heard is the sole mark of man. 

What things impossible must man think true, 

On any other system ! and how strange 

To disbelieve, through more credulity ! " 

If, in this chain, Lorenzo finds no flaw, 
Let it for ever bind him to belief. 
And Where's the link, in which a flaw he finds 1 
And, if a God there is, that God how great ! 
How great that Power whose providential care 
Through these bright orbs' dark centres darts a ray I 
Of nature universal threads the whole ! 
And hangs creation, like a precious gem, 
Though little, on the footstool of his throne ! 

That little gem, how large ! A weight let fall 
From a fix'd star, in ages can it reach 
This distant earth ? Say, then, Lorenzo ! where, 
Where ends this mighty building? Where begin 
The suburbs of creation 1 Where the wall, 
Whose battlements look o'er into the vale 
Of non-existence ? Nothing's strange abode ! 
Say, at what point of space Jehovah dropp'd 
His slackened line, and laid his balance by ; 
Weigh'd worlds, and measured infinite no more 1 
Where rears his terminating pillar high 
Its extramnndane head 1 and says, to gods, 
In characters illustrious as the sun, 



234 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

I stand, tlie plan's proud period ; I pronounce 
The work acconiplish'd ; the creation closed: 
Shout, all ye gods ! nor shout, ye gods alone ; 
Of all that lives, or it' devoid of lil'e, 
That rests, or rolls, ye heights and depths, resound ! 
Resound ! resound I ye depths and heights, resound! 

Hard are those questions 1 — Answer harder still, 
Is this the sole exploit, the single birth, 
The solitary son of Tower Divine 1 
Or has th' Almighty Father, with a breath, 
Impregnated the womb of distant space 1 
Has He not bid, in various provinces, 
Brother creations the dark bowels burst 
Ol' night primeval ; barren, now, more? 
And He the central sun, transpiercing all 
'J'hose giant generations whicli disport 
And dance, as motes, in his meridian ray; 
That ray withdrawn, benighted or absorbed. 
In that isbyss of horror, whence they sprung; 
While Chaos triumiths. repossess'd of all 
.Rival creation ravisli'd from his throne 7 
Chaos 1 of nature both the womb and grave ! 

U'hink'st thou my scheme, Lorknzo, spreads too 
Is this extravagant ?— A'o ; this is just ; [wide ? 

Just in conjecture, though 'twere false in fact. 
If 'tis an error, 'tis an error sprung 
From noble root, high thought of the IMost High. 
Rut wherefore error 1 Who can prove it such 1 
He that can set Omnipotence a bound. 
Can man conceive beyond what Cod can do? 
Nothing, but quite impossible, is hard. 
He summons into being, with like ease, 
A whole creation, and a single grain, 
Speaks he the word ? a thousand worlds are born ! 
A thousand worlds ? there's space for millions more; 
And in what spuce can his great Jiat fail 1 
Condemn me not, cold critic ! but indulge 
The warm imagination : why condenm ■? 
Why not indulge such thoughts as swell our hearts 



THE CONSOLATION. 235 

With fuller admiration of that Power 

Who gives our hearts with such high thoughts to 

Why not indulge in his augmented praise 1 [swell ? 

Dart's not His glory a still brighter ray, 

The less is left to Chaos and the realms 

Of hideous iXight, where fancy strays aghast; 

And, though most talkative, makes no report 1 

Still seems my thought enormous 1 Think again ; 
Experience' self shall aid thy lame belief. 
Glasses, (that revelation to the sight I) 
Have they not led us deep in the disclose 
Of tine-spun nature, exquisitely small ; 
And, though demonstrated, still ill conceived ? 
If then, on the reverse, the i.iind would mount 
In magnitude, what mind can mount too far, 
To keep the balance, and creation poise 1 
Defect alone can err on such a theme : 
What is too great, if we the cause survey 1 
Stupendous Architect ! Thou, Thou art all ! 
My soul thes up and down in thoughts of Thee, 
And tinds her.-elf but at the centre still ! 
I AM, thy name ! Existence all thine own ! 
Creation's nothing ; flatter'd much, if styled 
"The thin, the fleeting atmosphere of God." 

Oh, for the voice — of what? of whom? — What 
Can answer to my wants, in such ascent [voice 

As dares to deem'one universe too small ? 
Tell me, Lorenzo ! (for now fancy glows, 
Fired in the vortex of Almighty Power) 
Is not this home creation, in the map 
Of universal nature, as a speck. 
Like fair Britannia in oar little ball ! 
Exceeding fair, and glorious, for its size, 
But elsewhere far outmeasured, far outshone? 
In fancy (for the fact beyond us lies) 
Canst thou not figure it, an isle almost 
Too small for notice, in the vast of being; 
Bever'd by mighty seas of unbuilt space 
From other realms ; from ample' continents 
Of higher life, where nobler natives dwell ; 



236 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT 1] 

Less northern, less remote from Deity, 
Glowing beneath the line of the Supreme ; 
Where souls in excellence make ha<te, put forth 
Luxuriant growths ; nor the late autumn wait 
Of human worth, but ripen soon to gods 1 

Yet why drown fancy in such depths as these 1 
Return, presumptuous rover I and confess 
The bounds of man ; nor blame them as too small. 
Enjoy we not full scope in what is seen 1 
Full ample the dominions of the sun ! 
Full glorious to behold ! How far, how wide 
The matchless monarch, from his flaming throne, 
Lavish of lustre, throws his beams about him, 
Further and faster than a thought can fly, 
And feeds his planets with eternal fires ! 
This Heliopolis, by greater far 
Than the proud tyrant of the Nile, was built ; 
And He alone who built it can destroy. 
Beyond this city, why strays human thought ? 
One wonderful, enough for man to know ! 
One infinite, enough for man to range ! 
One firmament, enough for man to read ! 
Oh, what volum.inous instruction here : 
What page of wisdom is denied him ? None; 
If learning his chief lesson makes him wise. 
Nor is instructiou here our only gain ; 
There dwells a noble pathos in the skies, 
Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. 
How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
With what authority it gives its charge, 
Remonstrating great truths in style sublime. 
Though silent, loud ! heard earth around ; above 
The planets heard ; and not unheard in hell : 
Hell has her wonder, though too proud to praise. 
Is earth then more infernal ? Has she those 
Who neither praise (Lorenzo !) nor admire 1 

Lorenzo's admiration, pre-engaged. 
Ne'er ask'd the moon one question ; never held 
Least correspondence with a single star ; 
Ne'er rear'd an altar to the queen of heaven 



THE CONSOLATION- 237 

Walking in brightness ; or her train adored. 

Their sublunary rivals have long since 

Engross'd his whole devotion : stars malign, 

Which made their fond astronomer run mad, 

Darken his intellect, corrupt his heart ; 

Cause him to sacritice his fame and peace 

To momentary madness, call'd delight : % 

Idolater, more gross than ever kiss'd 

The lifted hand to Luna, or pour'd out 

The blood to Jove !— O THOU, to whom belongs 

All sacrifice ! O thou great Jove unfeign'd ! 

Divine Instructor I thy first volume, this, 

For man's perusal ; all in capitals ! 

In moon and stars (heaven's golden alphabet !) 

Emblazed to seize the sight ! who runs may read ; 

Who reads can understand. 'Tis unconfined 

To Christian land or Jewry ; fairly writ 

In language universal to mankind: 

A language lofty to the learn'd ; yet plain 

To those that feed the flock, or guide the plough, 

Or, from its husk, strike out the bounding grain. 

A language, worthy the Great Mind that speaks 

Preface and comment to the sacred page I 

Which oft refers its reader to the sk'cs, 

As presupposing his first lesson there. 

And Scripture 'self a fragment, that unread. 

Stupendous book of wisdom to the wise ! 

Stupendous book ! and open'd, Night ! by thee. 

By thee much open'd, I confess, O Night ! 
Yet more I wish ; but how shall I prevail 1 
Say, gentle Night ! whose modest, maiden beams 
Give us a new creation, and present 
The world's great picture soften'd to the sight; 
Nay, kinder far, far more indulgent still, 
Say thou, whose mild dominion's silver key 
Unlocks our hemisphere, and sets to view 
Worlds beyond number ; worlds conceal'd by day, 
Behind the proud and envious star of noon I 
Canst thou not draw a deeper scene ?— and show 
The mighty Potkntatb, to whom belong 



238 Tllk CONSOLAflOff. KIGtHT IX. 

This rich regalia, pompnusly display'd 
To kindle that high hope 1 Like him of Uz, 
1 gaze around ; I search on every side — 
Oh, for a glimpse of Him my soul adores ! 
As the chased hart, amid the desert waste, 
Pants for the living stream : for Him who made her, 
So pants the thirsty soul, amid the blank 
Of sublunary joys. Say, goddess ! where 1 [throne? 
Where blazes his bright court 1 Where burns his 
Thou know'st; for thou art near Hira ; by thee, 
His great pavilion, sacred fame reports [round 

The sable curtain drawn. If not, can none 
Of thy fair daughter-train, so swift of wing, 
Who travel far, discover where he dwells 1 
A star His dwelling pointed out below. 
Ye Pleiades ! Arcturus ! Mazaroth ! 
And thou, Orion ! of still keener eye ! 
Say ye, who guide the wilder'd in the Waves, 
And bring them out of tempest into port ! 
On which hand must I bend my course to find Himl 
These courtiers keep the secret of their King : 
I wake whole nights, in Vain, to steal it from them. 
I wake ; and, waking, climb Night's radiant scale, 
From sphere to sphere ; the steps by nature set 
For man's ascent ; at once to tempt and aid ; 
To tempt his eye, and aid his towering thought ; 
Till it arrives at the great goal of all. 
In ardent contemplation's rapid car, 
From earth, as from my barrier, I set out. 
How swift I mount ! Diminish'd earth recedes ; 
I pass the moon ; and from her further side, 
Pierce heaven's blue curtain ; strike into remote ; 
Where, with his lifted tube, the subtle sage 
His artificial, airy journey takes, 
And to celestial lengthens human sight. 
I pause at every planet on my road, 
And ask for Him who gives their orbs to roll. 
Their foreheads fair to shine. From Saturn's ring, 
In which, of earth's an army might be lost, 
With the bold comet, take my bolder flight 



The ( oN-snLATioN 239 

Ainld those sovereign glories of the skies, 

Of independent, native lustre proud ; 

The souls of systems ! and the lords of life, 

Through their wide empires !— What behold I nowl 

A wilderness of wonders burning round ; 

Where larger suns inhabit higher spheres; 

Perhaps the villas of descending gods ! 

Nor halt I here ; mv toil is but begun : 

*Tis but the threshold of the Deity ; 

Or, for beneath it, I am grov'ling still. 

Nor is it strange ; I built on a mistake ! 

The grandeur of his works, whence folly sought 

For aid to reason, sets his glory higher ; 

Who built thus high for worms, (mere worms to Him,) 

Oh where, Lorenzo ! must the Builder dwell 1 

Pause, then ; and, for a moment, here respire — 
If human thought can keep its station here. [thou 
Where am I ? — Where is earth ? — Nay, where art 
O sun 1 — Is the sun turn'd cecluse 1 — And are 
His boasted expeditions short to mine 1 
To mine, how sliort ! On nature's Alps I stand, 
And see a thousand firmaments beneath ! 
A thousand systems, as a thousand grains ! 
So much a stranger, and so late arrived. 
How can man's curious spirit not inq.uire. 
What are the natives of this world sublime, 
Of this so foreign, unterrestial sphere. 
Where mortal, untranslated, never stray'd 1 

" () ye, as distant from my little home 
As swiftest sunbeams in an age can fly I 
Far from my native element I roam. 
In quest of new and wonderful, to man. 
What province this, of His immense domain, 
Whom all obey ? Or mortals here, or gods 1 
Ye borderers on the coast of bliss ! what are yoU ? 
A colony from heaven 1 or, only raised. 
By frequent visit from heaven's neighboring realms, 
To secondary gods, and half divine ? 
Whate'er j'our nature, this is past dispute, 
Far other life you live, far other tongue 



240 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

You talk, far other thought, perhaps, you think, 

Than man. How various are the works of God ! 

But say, What thought 1 Is reasnn here enthroned 

And absohue 1 or sense in arms against her? 

Have you two lights 1 or need you no reveal'd ? 

Enjoy your happy realms their golden age ? 

And had your Eden an abstemious Eve 1 

Our Eve's fair daughters prove their pedigree, 

And ask their Ada.ms — ' Who would not be wise 1 ' 

Or, if your mother fell, are you redeem'd ? 

And if redeem'd — is your Redeemer scorn'd 1 

Is this your final residence ? If not. 

Change you your scene, translated ? or by death 1 

And if by death ; what death 1 Know you disease 1 

Or horrid war ? with war, this ftital hour, 

EuROPA groans (so call we a small field. 

Where kings run mad.) In our world, death deputes 

Intemperance to do tlie work of age ; 

And. hanging up the quiver nature gave him, 

As slow of execution, for despatch 

Sends forth imperial butchers ; bids them slay 

Their sheep, (the silly sheep they fleeced before,) 

And toss him twice ten thousand at a meal. 

Sit all your executioners on thrones ? 

With you, can rage for plunder make a god ? 

And bloodshed wash out every other stain 1 

But you, perhaps, can't bleed : from matter gross 

Your spirits clean, are delicately clad 

In fine-spun ether, privileged to soar 

Unloaded, uninfected ; how unlike 

The lot of man ! how few of human race 

By their own mud unmurder'd ! How we wage 

Self-war eternal ! — Is your painful day 

Of hardy conflict o'er ? or, are you still 

Raw candidates at school 1 And have you those 

Who disaffect reversions, as with us 1 — 

But what are we ? You never heard of man ; 

Or earth, the Bedlam of the universe ! 

Where reason (undiseased with you) runs mad, 

And nurses folly's childien as her ov%'n j 



THK CONSOLATION. 241 

Fond of the foulest. In the sacred mount 

Of holiness, where reason is pronounced 

Infallible, and thunders like a god ; 

E'en there, by saints, the demons are outdone ; 

What these think wrong our saints refine to right ; 

And kindly teach dull hell her own black arts : 

Satan, instructed, o'er their morals smiles. 

But this, how strange to you who know not man ! 

Has the least rumor of our race arrived ? 

Call'd here Elijah in his flaming car 1 

Pass'd by you the good Enoch, on his road 

To those fair fields, whence Lucifer was hurl'd ; 

Who brush'd, perhaps, your sphere in his descend 

Stain'd your pure crystal ether, or let fall 

A short eclipse from his portentous shade ? 

Oh, that that fiend had lodged on some broad orb 

Athwart his way ; nor reach'd his present home, 

Then blacken'd earth with footsteps foul'd in hell, 

Nor wash'd in ocean, as from Rome he pass'd 

To Britain's isle ; too, too conspicuous there ! " 

But this is all digression. Where is He, 
That o'er heaven's battlements the felon hurl'd 
To groans, and chains, and darkness 7 Where is He, 
Who sees creation's summit in a vale 1 
He, whom, while man is man, he can't but seek ; 
And if he finds, conunences more than man 1 
Oh, for a telescope his throne to reach ! 
Tell me, ye learn'd cm earth, or bless'd above .' 
Ye searching, ye Newtonian angels — tell. 
Where, your great Master's orb? his planets,where'? 
Those conscious satellites, those morning stars, 
First-born of Deity ? from central love. 
By veneration most profound, thrown ofl'; 
By sweet attraction no less strongly drawn ; 
Awed and yet raptured ; raptured yet serene ; 
Past thouglit illustrious, but with borrow'd beams; 
In still approaching circles, still remote, 
Revolving round the sun's eternal Sire "? 
Or sent, In lines direct, on embassies 
To nations— in what latitude ?— Beyond 
IG 



242 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX 

Terrestrial thought's horizon ! — And on what 
High errands sent ? — Here human effort ends ; 
And leaves me still a stranger to his throne. 

Full well it might ! I quite mistook my road ; 
Born in an age more curious than devout : 
More fond to fix the place of heaven, or hell, 
Than studious this to shun, or that secure. 
'Tis not the curious, but the pious path, 
That leads me to my point : Lorenzo ! know, 
Without or star or angel for their guide. 
Who worship God shall find him. Humble love. 
And not proud reason, keeps the door of heaven ; 
Love, finds admission where proud science fails. 
Man's science is the culture of his heart ; 
And not to lose his plummet in the depths 
Of nature, or the more profound of God. 
Either to know, is an attempt that sets 
The wisest on a level with the fool. 
To fathom nature, (ill attempted here !) 
Past doubt, is deep philosophy above : 
Higher degrees in bliss archangels take. 
As deeper learn'd ; the deepest, learning still. 
For, what a thunder of Onmipotence 
(So might I dare to speak) is seen in all ! 
In man ! in earth ! in more amazing skies ! 
Teaching this lesson, pride is loath to learn — • 
" Not deeply to discern, not nmch to know ; 
Mankind was born to wonder and adore." 

And is there cause for higher wonder still, 
Than that which struck us from our past surveys ? 
Yes ; and for deeper adoration too. 
From my late airy travel unconfined, 
Have I learn'd nothing ? — Yes, Lorenzo ; this — 
Each of these stars is a religious house ; 
I saw their altars smoke, their incense rise ; 
And heard hosannas ring through every sphere, 
A seminary fraught with future gods. 
Nature, all o'er is consecrated ground, 
Teeming with growths immortal and divine. 
The great Proprietor's all-bounteous hand 



THE CONSOLATION. 243 

Leaves nothing waste ; but sows these fiery fields 
With seeds of reason, which to virtue rise 
Beneath his genial ray ; and, if escaped 
The pestilential blasts of stubborn will. 
When grown mature, are gather'il for the skies. 
And is devotion thought too much on earth, 
Wlien beings, so superior, homage boast, 
And triumph in prostration to The Throne ? 
But wherefore more of planets or of stars 7 
Ethereal journeys, and, discover'd there. 
Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand ways devout, 
All nature sending incense to the Throne, 
Except the bold Lorenzos of our sphere 1 
Opening the solemn sources of my soul. 
Since I have pour'd, like feign'd Eridanus, 
My flowing numbers o'er the flaming skies, 
Nor see. of fancy, or of fact what more 
Invites the muse. — Here turn we, and review 
Our past nocturnal lanscape wide :— then say, 
Say then, Lorenzo ! with what burst of heart. 
The whole, at once, revolving in his thought, 
Must man exclaim, adoring and aghast ? 
" Oh what a root ! Oh whit a branch, is here ! 
Oh what a father ! what a family ! 
Worlds ! systems ! and creations! — and creations 
In one agglomerated cluster, hung. 
Great Vine ! * on Thee, on Thee the cluster hangs: 
The filial cluster ! infinitely spread 
In glowing globes, with various being fraught; 
And drinks (nectarious draught!) immortal life. 
Or, shall I say, (for who can say enough ?) 
A constellation of ten thousand gems, 
(And, Oh, of what dimensions ! of what weight!) 
Set in one signet, flames on the right hand 
Of Majesty Divine ! the blazing seal 
That deeply stamps, on all created mind, 
Indelible, his sovereign attributes. 
Omnipotence and love I that, passing bound ; 

* John XV. 1. 



244 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

And this, surpnssino; that. Nor stop we here, 

For want of power in God, but thought in man. 

E'en this acitnowledgeii leaves us still in debt: 

If gieiter aught, that greater is all thine, 

Dread Sirk 1 — Accept this miniature of Thee ; 

And pirdon an attempt from mortal thought, 

In which archangels might have fail'd, unblam'd." 

How such ideas of th' Almirhty's power, 
And such ideas of th' Almighty's plan, 
(Ideas not absurd,) distend the thought 
Of feeble mortals ! Nor of them alone I 
The fulness of the Deity breaks forth 
In inconceivables to men, and gods. 
Think, then. Oh think ! nor ever drop the thought 
How low nuist man descend, when gods adore ! 
Have I not, then, accomplish'd my proud boast? 
Did I not tell thee, "we would mount, Lorenzo I 
And kindle our devotion at the stars 1 " * 

And have I fail'd 1 and did I flatter thee 1 
And art all ad-tmant 1 and dost confute 
All urged, with one irrefragable smile ? 
Lorenzo ! mirth how miserable here ! 
Swear by the stars, by Him who made them, swear 
Thy heart, henceforth, shall be as pure as they : 
Then thou, like them, shalt shine; like them shalt 
From low to lofty ; from obscure to bright ; frise 
By due gradation, nature's sacred law. 
The stars, from whence ? — Ask Chaos — he can tell. 
These bright temptations to idolatry. 
From darkness and confusion took their birth; 
Sons of deformity ! from fluid dregs 
Tartarean, first they rose to masses rude ; 
And then to spheres opaque ; then dindy shone : 
Then brighten'd ; then blazed out in perfect day. 
Nature delights in progress : in advance 
From worse to better ; but, when minds ascend, 
Progress in part depends upon themselves. 
Heaven aids exertion : greater makes the great ; 

* See page 211 



THE CONSOLATION. 245 

The \oluiilnry little lessens more. 

Oh he <i man '. and thou shalt he a god ! 

And half self-made I amhition how divine! 

O thou, amhitious of di-grace alone ! 
Still undevnut'' unkindied ? though high taught, 
School'd l)y the skies, and pupil of the stars ; 
Bank coward to the fashionahle world ! 
Art thou ashamed to hend thy knee to Heaven ? 
Curs'd fume of pride, exhaled from deepest hell! 
Pride in religion is man's highest praise. 
Bent on destruction ! and in love with death! 
Not all these luminaries, quench'd at once, 
Were half so sad as one henighted mind, 
Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 
How, like a widow in her weeds, the Night, 
Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits ! 
How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps 
Perpetual dews, and sadden nature's scene! 
A scene more sad sin makes the darken'd soul, 
All comfort kills, nor leaves one spark alive. 

Though hlind of heart, still open is thine eye: 
Why such magnificence in all thou seest 1 
Of matter's grandeur, know, one end is this, 
To tell the rational, who gazes on it — 
"Though that immensely great, still greater he, 
Whose hreast capacious can emhrace and lodge 
Unhurdcn'd nature's universal scheme : 
Can grasp creation with a single thought ; 
Creation grasp ; and not exclude its Sire " — 
To tell him further — "It behoves him much 
To guard th' important yet depending, fate 
Of being, brighter than a thousand suns : 
One single ray of thought outshines them all." 
And if man hears obedient, soon he'll soar 
Superior heights, and on his purple wing. 
His purple wing bedropp'd with eyes of gold. 
Rising where thought is now denied to rise. 
Look down triumphant on these dazzling spheres. 

Why then persist ? no mortal ever lived, 
But, dying, he pronounced (when words are true) 



246 THK CONSOLATION. NIGUT IX. 

The whole that charms thee, absolutely vain ; 

Vain, and far worse ! — Think thou, with dying men J 

Oh, condescend to think as angels think ! 

Oh, tolerate a chance for happiness ! 

Our nature such, ill choice insures ill fate ; 

And hell had been, though there had been no Goi 

Dost thou not know, my new astronomer ! 

Earth, turning from the sun, brings night to man? 

Man turning from his God, brings endless night ; 

Where thou canst read no morals, find no friend, 

Amend no manners, and expect no peace. 

How deep the darkness ! and the groan how loud ! 

And far, how far from lambent are the flames ! 

Such isLoRKNzo's purchase ! such his praise! 

The proud, the politic Lorenzo's praise ! 

Though in his ear, and level'd at his heart, 

I've half read o'er the volume of the skies. 

For think not thou hast heard all this from me; 
My song but echoes what great nature speaks. 
What has she spoken ? Thus the goddess spoke, 
Thus speaks forever : — " Place at nature's head 
A sovereign, which o'er all things rolls his eye. 
Extends his wing, promulgates his commands, 
But, above all, diffuses endless good : 
To whom, for sure redress, the wrong'd may fly ; 
The vile for mercy ; and the pain'd for peace ; 
By whom the various tenants of these spheres, 
Diversified in fortunes, place and powers, 
Raised in enjoyment, as in worth they rise. 
Arrive at length (if worthy such approach) 
At that bless'd fountain-head, from which they 
Where conflict past redoubles present joy ; [stream ; 
And present joy looks forward on increase ; 
And that, on more ; no period I every step 
A double boon ! a promise and a bliss." 
How easy sits this scheme on human hearts ! 
It suits their make ; it soothes their vast desires ; 
Passion is pleased, and reason asks no more ; 
'Tis rational ! 'tis great ! — But what is thine 1 
It darkens ! shocks ! excruciates 1 and confounds ! 



THE CONSOLATION. 247 

Leaves us quite naked, both of help, and hope, 
Sinking I'roni Ijad to worse ; lew years the sport 
Of fortune ; then the morsel of despair. 

Say, then, Lorknzo, (J'or tliou know'st it well,) 
What's vice? — Mere wantof compass in our thought. 
Religion, what ? — The proof of connuon sense. 
How art thou hooted, w here the last prevails ! 
Is itjny fault, if tliese truths call thee fool"? 
And thou shall never be luiscaU'd by me. 
Can neither shame nor terror stand thy friend 1 
But art thou still an insect in the mire ? 
How, like thy guardian angel, have I Hown ; 
Snatch'd thee Irom earth ; escorted thee through all 
The ethereal armies : walk'd thee, like a god. 
Through splendors of first magnitude, arranged 
On eitlier hand ; clouds thrown l)eneath thy feet; 
Close cruised on the bright paradise of God; 
And almost introduced thee to the Throne I 
And art thou still carousing for delight. 
Rank poison ; tirst fermenting to mere froth, 
And tlien subsiding into final gall .' 
To beings of sublime, inuuortal make, 
How shocking is all joy whose end is sure ! 
Such joy, more shocking still the more it charms! 
And dost thou choose what ends, ere well begun; 
And infamous as short 1 And dost thou choose 
(Thou to whose palate glory is so sweet) 
To watJe into perdition, through contempt, 
rsot of poor bigots only, but thy own 1 
For I have peep'd into thy cover'd heart. 
And seen it blush beneath a boastful brow ; 
For, by strong guilt's nu)st violent assault, 
Conscience is but disabled, not destroy'd, 

O thou most awful being, and most vain ! 
Thy will how frail I how glorious is th> power! 
Though dread eternity has sown her seeds 
Of bliss and woe, in thy despotic breast ; 
Though heaven and hell depend upon thy choice ; 
A butterfly comes 'cross, and both are fied, 
Is this the picture of a rational 1 



S48 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

This horrid image, shall it be most just ? 

Lorenzo ! no: it cnnnot — shall not he, 

If there is force in reason: or, in sounds, 

Chanted beneath the <r]imi)ses of the moon, 

A magic, at this planetary honr. 

When slumber locks the general lip, and dreams 

Through senseless mazes hunt souls uninspired. 

Attend — the sacred mysteries begin 

My solemn night-born adjuration hear; 
Hear, and I'll raise thy spirit from the dust ; 
While the stars gaze on this enchantment new; 
Enchantment, not infernal, but divine ! 

" By Silence, death's peculiar attribute ; 
By Darkness, death's inevitable doom ! 
By Darkness and by Silence, sisters dread ! 
That draw the curtain round night's ebon throne, 
And raise ideas solemn as the scene: 
By Night, and all of awful night presents 
To thought or sense, (of awful nuich, to both. 
The goddess brings !) By these her trembling fires, 
Like Vesta's ever burning; and, like hers. 
Sacred to thoughts inimaculate, and pure! 
By these briglit orators, that prove and praise, 
And press thee to revere the Deity ; 
Perhaps, too, aid thee, when revered awhile. 
To reach his throne ; as stages of the soul, 
Through which, at different periods, she shall pass. 
Refining gradual, for her final height. 
And purging off" some dross at every sphere ! 
By this dark pall thrown o'er the silent world ! 
By the world's kings, and kingdoms, most renown'd, 
From short ambition's zenith sent for ever ; 
Sad presage to vain boasters, now in bloom ! 
By the long list of swift mortality. 
From Adam downward to this evening knell, 
Which midnight waves in fancy's startled eye, 
And shocks her with a hundred centuries, [thought ! 
Round death's black banner throng'd, in human 
By thousands, now, resigning their last breath, 
And calling »hee— wert thou so wise to hear ! 



THE CONSOLATION. 249 

By tombs o'er tombs arising ; human earth 
Ejected, to make room for — human earth ; 
The monarch's terror and the sexton's trade ! 
By pompous obsequies, that shun the day, 
The torch funereal, and the nodding plume, 
Which makes poor man's humiliation proud ; 
Boast of our ruin ! Triumph of our dust ! 
By the damp vault thai weeps o'er royal bones ; 
And the pale damp, that shows the ghastly dead. 
More ghastly through the thick incumbent gloom ! 
By visits (if'theie are) from darker scenes, 
The gliding spectre ! and the groaning grave ! 
By groans, and graves, and miseries that groan 
For the grave's shelter ! By desponding men, 
Senseless to pains of death, from pangs of guilt.' 
By guilt's last audit ! By yon moon in blood, 
The rocking firmament, the falling stars, 
And thunder's last discharge, great nature's knell! 
By second chaos ; and eternal light " — 
Be WISE — nor let Philander blame mj- charm; 
But own not ill discharged my double debt, 
Love to the living, duty to the dead. 

For know, I'm but executor ; he left 
This moral legacy ; I make it o'er 
By his command : Philander hear in me, 
And Heaven in both. — If deaf to these, oh ! heat 
Florello's tender voice; his weal depends 
On thy resolve ; it trembles at thy choice : 
For his sake — love thyself. Example strikes 
All human hearts ! a bad exan)ple more ; 
More still a father's ; that ensures his luin. 
As parent of his being, wouldst thou prove 
Th' unnatural parent of his miseries. 
And make him curse the being which thou gavesf? 
Is this the blessing of so fond a father ? 
If careless of Lorenzo, spare, oh ! spare 
Florello's father, and Philander's friend! 
Florello's father ruin'd, ruins him ; 
And from Philander's friend the world expects 
A conduct, no dishonor to the dead. 



250 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

Let passion do what nobler motive should ; 

Let love and emulation rise in aid 

To reason ; and persuade thee to be — bless'd. 

This seems not a request to be denied ; 
Yet (such th' infatuation of nuvnkind !) 
'Tis the most hopeless, man can make to man 
Shall I, then, rise in argument and warmtli ; 
And urge Philander's posthumous advice, 

From topics yet unbroach'd ? 

But oh ! I faint ! my spirts fail ! — Nor strange l 
So long on wing, and in no middle clime ! 
To which my great Creator s glory call'd : 
And calls — but, now, in vain. Sleep's dewy wand 
Has stroked my drooping lids, and promises 
My long arrear of rest ; tlie downy god 
(Wont to return with our returning peace) 
Will pay, ere long, and bless me with repose. 
Haste, haste, sw eet stranger ! from the peasant's cot, 
The shipboy's hammock, or the soldier's straw, 
Whence sorrow never chased thee ; with thee bring 
Not hideous visions, as of late ! but draughts 
Delicious of well tasted, cordial rest; 
Man's rich restorative ; his balmy bath. 
That supples, lubricates, and keeps in play. 
The various movements of his nice macliine, 
Which asks such frequent periods of repair. 
Wlien tired with vain rotations of the day. 
Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn ; 
Fresli we spin on, till sickness clogs our wheels, 
Or death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends. 
When will it end with me 1 

" Thou only knows't, 

Thou, whose broad eye the future and the past 
Joins to the present ; making one of three 
To mortal thought ! Thou know'st, and Thou alone, 
All-knowing 1 — all -unknown ! — and yet well known ! 
Near, though remote ! and, though unfathom'd felt! 
And, though invisible, for ever seen ; 
And seen in all ! the great and the minute : 
Each globe above, with its gigantic race, 



THE CONSOLATION. 251 

Each flower, each leaf, with its small people swarm'd 

(Those puny \ouchers of Omnipotence !) [claie 

To the first thought that asks, ' From whence ! ' de- 

Their common Source. Thou fountain, running o'er 

In rivers of communicated joy ! 

Who gavest us speech for tar, far humbler themes ! 

Say, by what name shall I presume to call 

Him 1 see burning in the.-e countless suns, 

As Moses in the bush ? Illustri(jus Mind I 

The whole creation less, far less To thee 

Than that to the creation's ample round. 

How shall I name Thee ? — How my laboring soul 

Heaves underneath the thought, too big for birth I 

" Great system of perfections ! Mighty Cause 
Of causes mighty ! Cause uncaused ! Sole Root 
Of nature, that luxuriant growth of God ; 
First father of efiects ! that progeny 
Of endless series ; where the golden chain's 
Last link admits a period, who can tell 1 
Father of all that is or heard, or hears I 
Father of all that is or seen, or sees ! 
Father of all that is, or shall arise ! 
Father of this immeasurable mass 
Of matter multiform ; or dense, or rare ; 
Opaque, or lucid ; rapid, or at rest ; 
^linute, or passing bound 1 in each extreme, 
Of like amaze and mystery to man. 
Father of these bright millions of the night ! 
Of which the least full Godhead had proclaim'd. 
And thrown the gazer on his knee — Or say 
Is appellation higher still Thy choice 1 
Father of matter's temporary lords I 
Father of Spirits I nobler offspring ! sparks 
Of high paternal glory ; rich endow'd 
With various measures, and with various modes 
Of instinct, reason, intuition ; beams 
More pale, or bright from day divine, to break 
The dark of matter organized ; (the ware 
Of all created spirit ;) beams, that rise 
Each over other in superior light, 



252 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

Till the last ripens into Instre stronj?, 

Of next approach to Godhkad. Father fonil 

(Far fonder than e'er bore that name on earth) 

Of intellectual beinjis ! being- bless'd 

With piivvers to please Thee; not of passive ply 

To laws they know not ; beings lodged in seats 

Of well adijjted joys, in different domes 

Of this imperial pa'lace for thy sons ; 

Of this j)r()iid, populous, well policied 

Though boundless habitiition, plann'd by Thee: 

Whose several clans their several climates suit; 

And transposition, doubtless, would destroy. 

Or, oh ! indulge, immortal King I indulge 

A title, less august, indeed, but more 

Endearing! ah! how sweet in human ears ! 

Sueet in our ears, and triuujph in our hearts! 

Father of immortality to man ! 

A theme that lately* set my soul on fire. — 

And Thou the next! yet equal ! Thou, by whom 

That blessing was couvey'd : far more ! was bought; 

Ineffable the price I by whom all worlds 

Were made; and one redeem'd! illustrious Light 

From Light illu<trious ! Thou, whose regal power, 

Finite in time, but infinite in space, 

On more than adamantine basis fix'd, 

O'er more, far more, than diadems and thrones, 

Inviolably reigns ! the dread of gods ! 

And, oh ! the friend of man ! beneath whose foot, 

And by the mandate of whose awful nod, 

All regions, revolutions, fortunes, fates, 

Of high, of low, of mind, and matter, roll 

Through the short channels of expiring time, 

Or shoreless ocean of eternity. 

Calm or tempestuous, (as thy Spirit breathes,) 

In absolute subjection ! — And, O Thou 

The glorious Third ! distinct, not separate ! 

Beaming from both ! with both incorporate ! 

And (strange to tell I) incorporate with dust! 

* Nights the Sixth and Seventh. 



THE CONSOLATION. 253 

By contlescension, as thy glory, great, 
Enshrined in man ! of human hearts, if pure, 
Divine inhabitant I the tie divine 
Of heaven with distant earth ! by whom, I trust, 
(If not inspired,) uncensured this address 
To Thee, to Them— To whom ?— .Mysterious power; 
Reveal'd— yet.unreveal'd : darkness in light; 
Number in unity ! our joy I our dread ! 
The triple bolt that lays all wrong in ruin ! 
That animates all right, the triple sun ! 
Sun of the soul ! her never setting sun ! 
Triune, unutterable, unconccived. 
Absconding, yet demonstrable. Great God ! 
Greater than greatest I better than the best ! 
Kinder than kindest: with soft pity's eye. 
Or (stronger still to speak it) with thine own. 
From thy bright home, from that high firnianent 
Where Thou, from all eternity, hast dwelt; 
Beyond archangels' unassisted ken ; 
From far above what mortals highest call ; 
From elevation's pinnacle ; look down, 
Through — what 7 confounding interval ! through all, 
And more than laboring fancy can conceive ; 
Through radiant ranks of essences unknown ; 
Through hierarchies from hierarchies detach'd 
Round various banners of Omni|)otence, 
With endless change of rapturous duties fired : 
Through wondrous beings" interposing swarms, 
All clustering at the call, to dwell in Thee ; 
Through this wide waste of worlds ! this vista vast, 
All sanded o'er with suns ; suns turn'd to night 
Before thy feeblest beam—Look down— down— down. 
On a poor breathing particle in dust, 
Or, lower, — an immortal in his crimes. 
His crimes forgive ! forgive his virtues too ! 
Those smaller fault?, half converts to the right , 
Nor let nie close these eyes, tvhich never more 
May see the sun, (though night's descending scale 
Now weighs up morn.) unpitied and unbless'd.' 
In Thy displeasiue dwells eternal pain ; 



234 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

Pain, our aversion ; pain, which stril<es me now ; 

And, since all pain is terrible to man, 

Though transient, terrible ; at Thy good hour, 

Gently, ah, gently, lay me in my bed, 

My clay-cold bed 1 by nature, now, so near ; 

By nature, near ; still nearer by disease ! 

Till then, be this, an emblem of my grave : 

Let it outpreach the preacher ; every night 

Let it outcry the boy at Philip's ear ; 

That tongue of death ! that herald of the tomb; 

And when (the shelter of thy wing implored) 

My senses, sooth'd, shall sink m soft repose ; . 

Oh sink this truth still deeper in my soul, 

Suggested by my pillow, sign'd by fote, 

First, in fate's volume, at the page of man — 

Man's sickly soul, though tiirn''d and toss'd for ever, 

From side to side, can rest on nought but Thee ; 

Here, in full trust ; hereafter, in full joy. 

On Thee, the promised, sure, eternal down 

Of spirits, toil'd in travel through this vale. 

Nor of that pillow shall my soul despond ; 

For — Love almighty ! Love almighty ! (sing, 

Exult, creation !) Love almighty reigns! 

That death of death ! that cordial of despair .' 

And loud eternity's triumphant song ! 

" Of whom, no more ; — For, O thou, Patron God! 
Thou God and mortal ; thence more God to man ! 
Man's theme eternal ! man's eternal theme ! 
Thou canst not 'scape uninjured from our praise. 
Uninjured from our praise can He escape 
Who, disembosom'd from the Father, bows 
The heaven of heavens, to kiss the distant earth ! 
Breathes out in agonies a sinless soul ! 
Against the cross, death's iron sceptre breaks ! 
From famish'd ruin plucks her human prey ; 
Throws wide the gates celestial to his foes ! 
Their gratitude, for such a boundless debt. 
Deputes their suffering brothers to receive ! 
And, if deep human guilt in payment fails: 
As deeper guilt, prohibits our despair ! 



THE CONSOLATION. 255 

Enjoins it as our duty to rejoice ! 

And (to close all) omnipotently kind, 

Takes his delights among the sons of men." * 

What words are these ! — And did they come from 
And were they spoke to man, to guilty man ? [heaveni 
What are all mysterie-; to love like this ? 
The song of angels, all the melodies 
Of choral gods, are wafted in the sound ; 
Heal and exhilirate the broken heart : 
Though plunged, before, in horrors dark as night: 
Rich prelibation of consummate joy ! 
Nor wait we dissolution to be bless'd. 

This final effort of the moral muse, 
How ju'ifly titled I t Nor for me alone : 
For all that read ; what spirit of support, 
What heights of consolation crown my song ! 

Then, firewell Night! Of darkness now, no more 
Joy breaks, shines, triumphs ; 'tis eternal day. 
Shall that which rises out of nought complain 
Of a few evils, paid with endless joys 1 
My soul ! henceforth, in sweetest union join 
The two supports of human happiness. 
Which some, erroneous, think can never meet: 
True taste of life, and constant thought of death! 
The thought of death, sole victor of its dread. 
Hope, be thy joy ; and probity, thy skill ; 
Thy patron. He, whose diadem has dropp'd 
Yon gems of heaven ; eternity, thy prize : 
And leave the racers of the world'their own. 
Their feather, and their froth, for endless toils : 
They part with all for that which is not bread ; 
They mortify, they starve, on wealth, fame, power ; 
And laugh to scorn the fools that aim at more. 
How must a spirit, late escaped from earth, 
Suppose Philander's, Lucia's or Narcissa's, 
The truth of things new blazing in its eye, 
Look back, astonish'd, on the ways of men. 
Whose lives' whole drift is to forget their graves ! 

* Prov. chap. viii. t The Consolation 



256 THE CONSOLATION. NIGHT IX. 

And when our present privilege has pass'd, 
To scourge us with due sense of its abuse, 
The same astonishment will seize us all. 
What then must pain us would preserve us now. 
Lorenzo ! 'tis not yet too late : Lorenzo ! 
Seize wisdom, ere 'tis torment to be wise ; 
That is, seize wisdom, ere she seizes thee. 
For what, my small philosopher! is hell 1 
'Tis nothing, but full knowledge of the truth, 
When truth, resisted long, is sworn our foe, 
And calls eternity to do her right. 

Thus, darkness aiding intellectual light, \ 

And sacred silence whispering ti'uths divine, 
And truths divine converting pain to peace, 
My song the midnight raven has outwing'd, 
And shot, ambitious of unbounded scenes, 
Beyond the flaming limits of the world. 
Her gloomy flight. But what avails the flight 
Of foncy, when our hearts remain below 1 
Virtue abounds in flatterers and foes : 
'Tis pride, to praise her ; penance, to perform. 
To more than words, to more than worth of tongue, 
Lorenzo! rise at this auspicious hour; 
An hour, when Heaven's most intimate with man; 
When, like a falling star, the ray divine 
Glides swift into the bosom of the just; 
And just are all, determined to reclaim ; 
Which sets that title high, within thy reach. 
Awake, then ; thy Philander calls : awake ! 
Thou, who shalt wake when the creation sleeps; 
When, like a taper, all these suns expire ; 
When Time, like him of Gaza in his wrath, 
Plucking the pillars that support the world. 
In Nature's ample ruins lies entomb'd; 
And Midnight, universal Midnight reigns ! 



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